UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT   LOS  ANGELES 


THE  ANNALS 

OF  A  BABY. 


A  COMPANION   TO  "HBLBJSTB  BABIES." 

THE  ANNALS 

OF  A  BABY. 

HOW  IT  WAS  NAMED ;    HOW  IT  WAS  NURSED ;    HOW 

IT  WAS  A  TYRANT ;  AND  HOW  ITS  NOSE 

GOT  OUT  OF  JOINT. 

ALSO, 

A  FEW  WORDS  ABOUT    ITS    AUNTIES,   ITS    GRANDFATHERS,   GRAND 
MOTHERS,  AND  OTHER  IMPORTANT   RELATIONS. 


ONE  OF    ITS    SLATES. 

_ 


NEW    YORK: 

G.    W.    Carleton  •  &   Co.,  Publishers. 

LONDON  :     S.  LOW  &  CO. 

MDCCCT.XXVBv  ,-,     ,-,      >-,,-.     *  j     , 


COPYRIGHT,  1877,  BY 
G.  W.  CARLETON  &  CO. 


JOHN  F.  TROW  &  SON, 

PRINTERS  A^D  STEREOTYPERS, 

205-213  East  I2//4  Street, 

NEW  YORK. 


CONTENTS, 


FAGB 

I.— BABY'S  FIKST  GIFTS ;.      7 

II.— NAMING  THE  BABY 24 

III.— ONE  OF  THE  AUNTIES 43 

IV. — BABY'S  NURSE 58 

V. — THE  CRIPPLED  SISTER 93 

VI. — BABY'S  PARTY 124 

VII. — THE  SUNSET  OF  LIFE 154 

VIII.— AUNT  HANNAH. 166 

IX. — BABY'S  NOSE  is  OUT  OF  JOINT 206 

X.— PASSING  AWAY...  215 


. 


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THE  AOTALS  OF  A  BABY. 


CM  r 

OJ  A- 

o 

UJ  . 

, 
BABY  S   FIRST   GIFTS. 


r  ONCE  upon  a  time  a  Baby  was  born  in  a  happy 
Siome,  where  the  Father  and  Mother  were  young,  and 
where  there  were  no  other  children.  It  was  a  soft, 
v  pink  little  thing,  with  just  dark,  downy  rings  for  hair, 
^  and  a  sound  like  a  bird's  chirrup  for  its  first  weak 
human  cry.  There  was  great  joy  in  the  house  about  it; 
every  one  who  saw  it  said  there  never  was  such  a  baby 
before,  and  never  could  be  such  another.  Its  Mother 
had  held  it  a  moment  on  her  arm,  looking  at  it  in  a 
wonder  that  it  could  be  really  hers,  and  with  a  gush 
of  strange  love  that  stirred  great  shining  tears  into  her 
eyes,  which  would  have  fallen  on  the  Baby,  only  the 


8  BABY'S  FIRST  GIFTS. 

Fat  Nurse  with  the  frilled  cap  snatched  it  away  and 
told  her  "  it  was  unlucky  to  cry  over  a  new-born  child ! '? 
The  Father  had  stolen  into  the  room  on  tiptoe,  kissed 
his  pale  girl-wife  with  a  deeper  tenderness  than  he  had 
ever  yet  felt,  had  awkwardly  held  the  tiny,  warm  roll 
in  his  strong  hands  as  if  it  was  glass  that  he  was  afraid 
of  breaking,  and  had  then  been  sent  away  like  a  victim 
into  outer  regions.  The  Grandfathers  had  come,  lean 
ing  on  their  gold-headed  canes.  They  smiled  at  each 
other,  and  shook  hands  across  the  narrow  white  crib ; 
and  as  they  joked  over  the  Baby  there  was  a  faint  sigh 
smothered  down  by  each  at  their  own  gray  hairs,  and 
a  little  sadness  they  did  not  show  as  they  thought  of 
the  trials  of  life  that  surely  lay  before  that  untried 
soul.  The  Grandmothers,  in  their  black  silk  dresses, 
and  with  nice  rosy  faces,  had  smoothed  it  and  patted  it 
and  half  cried  over  it,  talking  all  the  while  about  the 
births  of  their  own  babies  that  were  grown  up  men  and 
women  now,  and  feeling  as  if  this  Baby  was  a  born 
princess  and  they  both  queen-dowagers.  And  all  the 
Young  Aunties,  with  their  gay  floating  ribbons  and 
fancy  aprons,  had  fluttered  in  groups  around  the  sleep 
ing  stranger,  had  held  up  their  dimpled  hands  in 


BABY'S  FIRST  GIFTS.  9 

delight,  and  kissed  it  softly  in  subdued  ecstasies ; 
called  it  "  a  rosebud,"  "  a  seraph,"  and  many  other 
endearing  titles;  quarrelled  who  should  take  it  first 
and  hold  it  longest,  until  they  also  had  been  cleared 
out,  like  other  victims,  by  the  fat  old  woman  with  the 
frilled  cap,  who  seemed  to  consider  the  Baby  as  her 
own  special  possession.  The  youngest  of  the  Aunties 
said  she  was  "  a  bear  " — behind  her  back,  however ; 
and  the  oldest  of  the  Young  Aunties  held  her  head  up 
very  high,  and  wondered  "  who  the  darling  would  be 
named  after." 

Every  one  who  came  brought  the  Baby  a  present, 
until  there  never  was  a  baby  who  had  so  many  and 
such  different  gifts.  Its  own  crib,  its  mother's  bed, 
and  its  pretty  dressing-basket  were  piled  full  of  them ; 
and  the  Baby  lay  in  the  midst  on  its  snowy  pillow, 
quite  careless  of  all  these  tokens  of  affection  and 
admiration ;  able,  in  fact,  to  do  nothing  but  rest  after 
the  weariness  of  being  born  into  the  world.  There 
were  all  sorts  of  rattles  and  whistles,  and  india-rubber 
balls  covered  with  net,  a  big  doll  twice  as  large  as 
Baby's  self,  with  a  satin  dress  and  movable  eyes,  and 
a  blue  pincushion  with  "  Baby  "  spelt  on  it  in  bright 


10  BABY'S  FIRST  GIFTS. 

fresh  pins  intended  for  Baby's  future  torture.  There 
were  also  daintily  embroidered  slips  worked  by  the 
Aunties,  finely  wrought  flannels  that  had  tried  aged 
spectacles,  silver  spoons  and  forks  to  feed  the  pouting 
mouth  still  sucking  in  sleep,  and  a  gold  cross  and  chain 
that  was  laid  upon  the  small  breast  which  had  scarcely 
yet  learned  to  heave  with  breath.  Every  one  that 
brought  a  gift  brought  also  good  wishes  and  bright 
hopes  and  tender  prayers  for  the  innocent  little  life. 
Only  one  Poor  Relation  brought  all  these  without  any 
thing  else ;  for  she  was  one  of  those  who  are  rich  only 
in  love,  and  have  nothing  to  spare  from  the  hard-earned 
daily  bread  that  fed  the  hungry.  She  was  not  gay  and 
young  like  the  Aunties ;  care  and  trials  had  taken 
away  her  youth  and  gayety  ;  but  her  heart  yearned  over 
the  Baby  perhaps  more  earnestly  than  theirs.  She  was 
sorry  she  could  not  bring  something  to  the  child  of 
more  value  than  costly  toys  or  dresses — some  gift  that 
should  be  a  talisman  against  pain  and  evil,  something 
a  soul  might  prize  through  all  eternity.  She  wished 
she  could  summon  the  fairies,  as  was  done  in  olden 
times,  to  bestow  gifts  on  the  children  of  kings  and 
queens ;  only  she  shuddered  when  she  remembered 


BABY'S  FIRST  GIFTS.  H 

that  with  the  rest  came  always  a  malignant  hag  who 
vented  her  spite  in  a  curse  that  counteracted  all  the 
good  offerings  of  the  others.  Nevertheless,  when  she 
had  kissed  the  Baby  "  good-by,"  and  murmured  a  short 

* 

prayer  over  it,  she  wended  her  way  homeward  with  her 
head  full  of  this  same  fancy,  for  the  Poor  Relation  had 
a  poet's  heart,  though  she  had  never  found  time  from 
work  to  sing  a  poet's  songs,  and  she  had  secretly  kept 
green  there  many  a  faith  of  her  childhood.  She  could 
not  help  thinking,  as  she  walked  slowly  over  the  fields, 
that  if  she  could  only  find  a  five-leaved  clover,  and  hold 
it  in  her  hand  in  the  open  air  at  midnight,  perhaps  she 
would  see  the  Fairy  Court,  and  could  ask  the  queen  to 
shed  her  bounty  on  the  dear  infant.  She  stepped  care 
fully  over  the  grass,  so  as  not  to  tread  on  the  daisies — 
for  she  was  almost  as  fond  of  flowers  as  of  babies — and 
looked  for  the  clover,  though  she  smiled  at  herself  for 
pretending  to  believe  there  were  such  mysterious  crea 
tures  as  fairies  any  more  in  this  changed  every-day 
world.  She  recollected  how  often  she  had  hunted  for 
a  five-leaved  clover  when  she  was  a  little  girl,  all  over 
these  same  meadows,  down  by  the  brook-side,  and  out 
in  the  still,  solemn  woods,  and  never  had  found  one ; 


12  BABY'S  FIRST  GIFTS. 

and  she  remembered  also  how  many  times  she  had 
been  told  there  was  no  such  growth  in  nature.  After 
awhile,  with  a  sad  sigh,  she  gave  up  looking  for  it,  and 
wished  she  was  a  child  again,  with  nothing  to  do  but 
wander  under  the  trees,  and  run  races  with  the  spark 
ling  rills.  The  sky  was  all  crimson  and  gold  with  the 
sunset,  and  as  she  raised  her  head  to  gaze  at  the  tinted 
clouds,  she  stumbled  over  a  stone  hidden  in  the  grass  ; 
as  she  glanced  down  again,  lo  !  before  her  she  suddenly 
beheld  the  object  of  her  search,  a  very  and  true  clover 
with  five  leaves,  just  nestling  under  the  shadow  of 
a  full-spread  buttercup.  She  could  scarcely  believe 
her  eyes,  and  almost  trembled  with  a  sort  of  awe  as  she 
broke  it  from  its  slender  stalk,  and  then  she  was  as 
glad  as  if  she  had  really  been  only  a  child;  she 
laughed  over  it,  and  talked  to  herself  about  what  it 
should  reveal  to  her,  till  pleasure  brought  a  flush  to  her 
worn  cheeks  that  made  her  look  quite  young  and 
pretty,  just  as  she  did  when  she  thought  she  should, 
perhaps,  some  day  have  babies  of  her  own  to  love. 

That  night,  before  the  clock  struck  twelve,  when  her 
Aged  Father  and  Mother  and  her  Crippled  Sister  were 
fast  asleep,  she  slipped  noiselessly  down  the  stairs  and 


BABY'S  FIRST  GIFTS.  13 

out  on  the  open  porch  of  her  humble  home,  where  the 
moonlight  was  shining  through  the  vines.  She  told  her 
self  that,  at  her  age,  it  was  silly  to  be  playing  such  fool 
ish  pranks  ;  but  she  held  the  five-leaved  clover  tight  in 
her  hand,  and  stood  under  the  arch  of  boughs,  looking 
out  on  the  narrcfw  lawn  dotted  with  bushes,  and  waiting 
for  midnight.  Just  at  the  first  stroke  of  the  solemn 
bell  that  always  tolled  the  hours,  a  slight  breeze  stirred 
all  the  leaves  around  her,  and  a  sort  of  gentle  rustling 
floated  on  the  quiet  air;  on  the  third  stroke  all  the 
flowers  on  the  vines  seemed  to  expand  into  full  bloom, 
and  turned  slowly  towards  the  lawn ;  at  the  fifth,  in 
numerable  fire-flies  gathered  on  that  one  spot ;  at  the 
seventh,  the  dew-drops  appeared  to  grow  hard  and 
glitter  with  brilliant  rays  like  diamonds  ;  at  the  ninth, 
the  roses  shed  floods  of  perfume,  and  the  jessamine 
stars  fairly  distilled  a  precious  odor ;  at  the  eleventh 
stroke  a  slender  white  circle  glistened  in  front  of  her 
as  if  the  blades  of  grass  had  been  bent  and  strung  with 
oriental  pearls  ;  and  at  the  twelfth,  there,  suddenly  be 
fore  her,  was  the  fairy  court.  The  fairies  were  all 
dressed  in  green,  so  that,  if  it  had  not  been  for  their 
bright  little  faces,  she  might  not  have  thought  them 


14  BAST'S  FIRST  GIFTS. 

fairies  at  all,  but  only  leaves  on  the  bushes.  Titauia 
was  throned  on  a  white  rose  just  a  petal  or  two  higher 
than  Pack,  who  was  making  faces  at  the  train-bearers 
of  her  majesty  as  they  stood  just  behind  her ;  the  rest 
were  seated  on  the  dew-drops,  perched  among  the 
blossoms,  or  balancing  on  feathery  sprays.  Titania 
alone  seemed  to  be  arrayed  in  a  silvery  mist,  with 
a  crown  of  many-colored  jewels  on  her  head,  each  so 
small  as  to  be  only  a  spark,  and  with  the  breast-plume 
of  a  humming-bird  in  her  hand  for  a  sceptre.  When  she 
spoke,  her  voice  was  low,  soft,  and  clear,  like  the  sing 
ing  of  a  far-off  lark  ;  the  men  fairies  all  pulled  off  their 
caps,  and  Puck  stopped  plaguing  the  pages,  and  turned 
his  twinkling  eyes  upon  her  face  as  he  listened. 

"In  the  name  of  the  five-leaved  clover,"  she  said, 
"  the  fairy  Court  has  been  summoned.  The  fairies  can 
refuse  nothing  to  the  holder  of  this  charm ;  make  thy 
request  of  Titania." 

The  Poor  Kelation  answered  like  one  in  a  dream: 
"  Gifts  for  a  Baby,  O  Queen !  " 

The  fairy  swayed  forward  a  little,  and  asked  with 
tender  interest :  "  Is  it  a  Baby-boy,  or  a  Baby-girl  ? " 
And  when  she  heard  the  echo  "  A  girl ! "  a  sadness 


BABY'S  FIRST  GIFTS.  15 

passed  like  a  fleeting  shadow  over  the  brightness  of  her 
face,  which,  being  noticed  by  Puck,  he  gave  out  a 
mocking  laugh,  like  the  whistle  of  an  insect.  But  the 
queen  waved  her  sceptre  for  silence,  and  a  sort  of 
sorrowing  expression  fell  upon  the  countenances  of  all, 
even  upon  the  brow  of  her  sportive  husband,  while  she 
spoke : 

"  Many  years  ago  we  could  have  brought  this  Baby 
rare  offerings,  that  would  have  made  all  the  world 
know  that  she  had  fairies  for  godmothers ;  but,  with 
the  belief  of  men  in  our  power,  much  of  our  power  is 
gone ;  the  gnomes  and  the  elves  have  all  died,  so  we 
have  no  more  tribute  from  the  earth  and  the  mines ; 
your  electricity  has  desolated  the  water — kingdom  of 
the  sylphs,  and  we  receive  no  longer  the  treasures  of 
the  seas ;  the  salamanders  are  bound  in  their  summer 
sleep,  and  the  fickle  sprites  of  air  are  not  now  in 
league  with  us." 

Here  the  queen  paled,  and  Puck  swore  a  round  oath, 
drawing  his  tiny  sword,  as  a  rough  gale  shook  the 
flower  on  which  they  sat. 

"  But  still,"  she  resumed  as  the  breeze  passed,  beam 
ing  at  the  Poor  Relation  like  a  star  emerging  from  a 


16  BABY'S  FIRST  GIFTS. 

cloud,  "  still,  for  those  who  come  to  us  in  faith  the 
fairies  have  some  gifts  to  render  yet.  There  are  not 
many  of  us  left,  and  our  rich  jewels  have  been  stolen 
from  us  one  by  one.  It  has  been  long  since  we  have 
been  called  upon  to  bless  a  cradle,  but  this  Baby  shall 
have  all  the  fairy  store  of  presents.  Offer  first,  O  Puck, 
my  lord  the  king !  " 

"  Ho,  ho !  "  said  the  merry  monarch,  nodding  '  joy 
ously  to  the  Poor  Relation,  "  I  give  the  Baby  some 
thing  better  than  gems — a  light  heart  and  a  free  wit ! " 

"  And  I,"  said  another,  in  answer  to  the  queen,  "  I 
bestow  a  winning  smile." 

"  And  I  a  rose-hue  on  the  cheeks." 

"  And  I  a  soft  hand  in  sickness,  and  a  strong  one  to 
protect  the  weak." 

Thus,  one  after  another,  the  fairies  chirped  out  their 
many  gifts,  till  grace,  modesty,  tenderness,  talent,  and 
countless  outward  beauties  had  been  showered  on  the 
unconscious  Baby.  The  Poor  Relation's  heart  was  all 
in  a  glow  and  her  eyes  full  of  thankful  drops  to  think 
what  favor  she  had  won  for  the  child,  when  she  had 
not  been  able  to  give  it  a  rattle  or  a  doll ;  and  she  was 
especially  glad  that  all  the  bad  fairies  of  old  stories 


BABY'S  FIRST  GIFTS.  17 

had  seemed  to  have  died  out,  since  not  one  evil  wish 
was  expressed.  But  suddenly  the  five-leaved  clover 
trembled  in  her  hand,  and  through  the  tear  on  her 
lashes  she  saw  Titania  standing  upon  it  in  all  her  misty 
and  jewelled  glory.  The  queen  pointed  to  two  flowers 
lying  out  on  the  ground — one  a  deep,  full  rose,  red  as 
a  man's  blood,  and  the  other  a  pallid  lily,  shining  like 
a  silver  chalice  in  the  rays  of  the  moon. 

"  Here,"  said  she,  "  is  my  gift ;  the  rose  is  Life,  the 
lily  is  Death ;  choose  which  shall  be  placed  in  the 
Baby's  hand,  for  either  is  a  priceless  boon." 

While  she  yet  spoke  a  cloud  passed  over  the  moon, 
and  when  the  light  shone  out  again  the  fairy  court  had 
vanished,  and  the  Poor  Relation  found  herself  alone, 
the  five-leaved  clover  withered  in  her  hand,  and  at  her 
feet  the  Rose  of  Life  and  the  Lily  of  Death. 

All  the  rest  of  the  night  she  could  not  sleep  for 
weighing  in  her  mind  which  of  the  fairy's  gifts  she 
should  place  in  the  Baby's  hand,  for  she  desired  to  do 
only  that  which  she  thought  would  be  most  likely  to 
secure  the  child's  true  good.  Life,  with  all  the  fairies 
had  bestowed,  might  be  beautiful  and  brilliant,  but 
none  of  them  had  given  a  talisman  to  shield  from 


18  S AST'S  FIRST  GIFTS. 

sorrow.  She  thought  of  her  own  sad  years,  and  how 
often  she  had  wished  she  had  died  when  she  was  a 
baby,  and  so  escaped  the  sin  and  trouble  of  existence. 
She  thought,  if  the  Baby  died  now,  innocent  and  pure, 
it  would  go  straight  to  heaven,  and  be  a  bright  angel 
among  God's  cherubs,  never  to  know  the  want  and 
care,  and  pain  of  humanity. 

But  then  this  Baby  had  so  much  to  live  for — hope 
and  friends,  fame  and  fortune,  and  perhaps,  who  could 
tell?  even  happiness,  for  all  hearts  did  not  always 
suffer.  So  she  could  not  decide ;  and  when  she  arose 
she  asked  her  white-haired  old  father  as  he  sat  in  the 
sun  on  the  porch : 

"  Which  would  be  the  best  gift  for  a  new-born  babe, 
life  or  death  ?  " 

He  looked  curiously  at  her  with  his  dim  eyes,  and 
answered  : 

"  It  is  a  hard  question,  for  life  4s  full  of  snares  and 
evil,  and  when  the  babe  has  lived  as  long  as  I  have  it 
will  know  that  all  the  hopes  of  life  are  not  so  sweet 
as  the  hope  of  death's  long  rest !  " 

And  she  asked  the  wrinkled  mother  who  sat  beside 
him,  clinking  the  shining  needles  through  the  snowy 


BABY'S  FIRST  GIFTS.  19 

wool ;  and  the  withered  hands  stopped  their  busy  knit 
ting  for  an  instant  as  she  said  : 

"  Life  is  labor,  but  in  the  world  after  death  we  will 
neither  toil  nor  spin ! " 

So  she  said  to  herself.  "  The  old,  for  whom  time  is 
over,  believe  that  death  is  a  greater  blessing  than  life. 
The  old  are  wise;  but  they  are  also  weary.  Let  me 
ask  the  young." 

So  she  went  into  the  house  where  the  Crippled  Sister 
was  propped  up  on  a  couch  by  the  window,  weaving 
arabesque  figures  into  a  fine  linen  garment  that  swept 
down  over  her  like  a  shroud  ;  and  she  asked  her  also : 

"  Sister,  which  would  be  the  best  gift  for  a  new-born 
babe,  life  or  death  ?  " 

«  Oh  !  life  !  life,  of  course ! " 

"  But,  Sister,  there  is  so  much  pain  in  life — you  and 
I  know  that  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  cripple  thoughtfully ;  "  but  there 
is  the  air,  the  sun,  and  the  flowers ;  the  blue  sky  and  the 
stars';  the  thought  of  God,  and  the  joy  of  being !  " 

Then  the  Poor  Relation  smoothed  the  pillows  behind 
her  sister's  crooked  back,  and  went  forth,  saying  softly, 
"  Life  is  always  hope  to  the  warm  blood  of  youth,  for 


20  BABY'S  FIRST  GIFTS. 

youth  is  not  yet  tired  of  woe  and  work."  Then  she 
concluded  that  the  Baby  should  choose  for  itself ;  she 
would  hold  the  two  flowers  over  it  while  asleep,  and 
whichever  one  its  eyes  turned  upon  when  they  first 
opened  she  would  know  was  its  destined  fate.  As  she 
walked  back  over  the  field,  where  she  had  found  the 
five-leaved  clover  the  day  before,  the  birds  sang,  the 
daisies  nodded  in  the  breeze,  the  lowing  of  kiue  reached 
her  ears,  and  on  the  side  of  the  purple  hills  a  little  way 
off  she  saw  a  bright  stream  leaping  and  flashing  in  the 
morning  light.  All  things  spoke  of  life,  and  that  life 
was  pleasant  and  fair.  But  as  she  went  on  farther  she 
came  to  the  still  Churchyard,  and  looked  in  at  the  open 
gate.  There  lay  the  green  graves  with  their  white 
stones  at  the  head  and  foot ;  the  weeping  willows  droop 
ing  their  graceful  branches  over  the  forgotten  names ; 
and  all  seemed  so  calm  and  holy,  as  if  the  sleepers 
there  had  folded  their  hands  and  lain  down  with  the 
hush  of  prayer  in  their  hearts ;  so  that  if  life  looked 
fair,  death  at  least  was  peace.  Still  she  mused,  as  she 
kept  on  her  way,  till  she  entered  the  quiet  chamber 
where  Baby  slumbered  in  its  warm  nest.  The  room 
was  darkened,  for  the  pale  Young  Mother  was  asleep 


BABY'S  FIRST  GIFTS.  21 

also ;  and  the  Fat  Nurse  was  down-stairs  in  the  kitchen, 
making  her  face  redder  than  ever  under  her  frilled  cap 
as  she  stirred  a  saucepan  over  the  hot  fire,  keeping 
her  dignity  while  the  cross  cook  fidgeted  with  the 
tongs.  The  Poor  Relation  leaned  over  the  crib,  hold 
ing  in  either  hand  the  Rose  of  Life  and  the  Lily  of 
Death,  and  waiting  for  the  Baby  to  open  its  eyes  upon 
destiny.  The  tiny  creature  did  not  stir,  but  slept  on 
till  she  began  to  tremble  at  the  power  she  held,  and  to 
think  she  would  carry  both  the  flowers  away  and  bury 
them  in  the  garden  at  home.  Then  she  feared  the 
fairy  might  be  angry,  and  send  something  worse  than 
life  or  death  upon  the  child  as  a  punishment  for  the 
neglect  of  her  gifts.  Suddenly  she  bethought  herself 
of  the  five-leaved  clover,  which  she  had  hidden  in  her 
bosom ;  so  she  passed  the  two  blossoms  into  one  hand  as 
she  drew  forth  the  faded  charm,  scarcely  believing  that 
the  fairies  could  appear  by  day,  or  that  the  shrivelled 
plant  kept  its  potency  as  a  spell.  But  as  she  held  it  up 
Titania  appeared,  alone  and  mistier  than  ever,  perched 
among  the  airy  lace-curtains  on  the  foot -board  of  Baby's 
bed. 

"  O   Queen ! "   she  cried,  "  bestow  thine  own   gifts ! 


22  BABY'S  FIRST  GIFTS. 

A  mortal  has  not  wisdom  enough  to  decide  a  human 
fate!" 

The  queen  smiled  on  her,  and  her  crown  of  minute 
gems  sparkled  more  brightly  as  she  said  : 

"  Didst  thou  not  know  that  to  find  a  five-leaved  clover 
and  to  talk  with  fairies  was  to  mark  thee  for  trial  of 
soul  ?  Dost  hesitate  between  my  gifts,  because  sorrow 
comes  into  all  life  ?  Sorrow  is  life's  discipline — an 
angel  that  leads  immortals  to  loftier  grace,  and  they 
stand  higher  in  the  next  world  who  have  suffered  in 
this  than  they  who  have  died  unpained.  Give  this 
Baby  life,  for  we,  the  fairies,  have  given  her  gifts  that 
shall  make  her  a  glory  on  earth,  and  her  life  shall  be 
example.  But  because  we  dare  to  yield  naught  that 
can  ward  off  sorrow,  I,  Titania,  will  bestow  upon  her 
that  which  will  make  sorrow  sweet,  and  stay  with  her 
as  a  joy  stronger  than  despair,  and  a  light  in  every 
darkness.  She  shall  have  Love — love  from  her  birth 
and  beyond  her  tomb ;  for  Life  with  Love  is  richer 
than  Death  and  Peace !  " 

And  the  fairy  touched  the  lily  with  her  sceptre,  and 
she  and  it  vanished  away. 

When  the  Young  Mother  woke  she  marvelled  much 


£AEY'S  FIRST  GIFTS.  23 

to  see  a  beautiful  crimson  rose  lying  in  the  Baby's 
hand.  The  Baby  too  awoke,  and  looked  at  it,  and 
smiled  at  the  strange  plaything.  And  because  it  was 
the  first  flower  her  child  ever  saw,  because  it  came 
there  in  so  wonderful  a  way,  for  even  the  Fat  Nurse 
knew  not  who  brought  it,  the  Mother  took  it  and 
pressed  it  in  her  Bible.  And  long  after,  when  the 
Baby  had  grown  up  to  be  a  lovely  and  noble  maiden, 
worshipped  and  loved,  humble  and  pure,  and  a  blessing 
to  the  Poor  Relation,  she  found  it  there,  the  mystic 
Rose  of  Life  among  the  words  of  Christ. 


II. 


NAMING   THE   BABY. 

THE  young  Aunties  had  said  it  was  a  "  rose-bud ;  " 
and  when  it  woke  from  its  noonday  nap  in  its  little 
white  crib,  it  was  a  very  blooming  little  bud  indeed ; 
its  round  dimpled  face  was  pink  with  the  warm  flush 
of  sleep  ;  its  tiny  lips,  that  had  been  softly  sucking  in  a 
dream,  were  dewy  and  red  as  two  unfolding  leaves ;  its 
small,  doubled  fists,  that  it  looked  at  so  curiously  with 
its  wide  blue  eyes,  were  tinted  in  the  tender  palms  like 
the  satiny  inside  petals  of  a  flower ;  and  the  wee  balls 
of  feet,  that  had  kicked  themselves  out  of  their  pretty 
socks,  had  such  rosy  soles,  and  such  mites  of  cunning 
pink  toes  that  the  delighted  Aunties  might  have 
thought  each  one  was  verily  a  sweet  and  separate 
blossom. 

And  it  lay  on  its  downy  bed  just  like  a  bird  in  its 
nest,  and  cooed  at  its  funny  dots  of  hands,  till  the 


NAMING   THE  BABY.  25 

young  Father  and  Mother,  who  had  been  sitting 
very  quietly  while  Baby  slept,  hardly  venturing  to 
speak  above  a  whisper  for  fear  of  stirring  that  sacred 
slumber,  smiled  at  each  other  as  they  listened  to  that 
little  chirp,  and  went  side  by  side  and  leaned  together 
over  their  treasure — God's  crowning  gift  to  holy  human 
love. 

They  looked  down  on  Baby  with  such  shining  faces 
that  Baby  left  off  studying  its  fingers,  and  looked  up  at 
them,  with  its  bright  bit  of  a  dawning  laugh,  that  made 
the  admiring  Mother  lift  it  in  her  loving  arms  for  the 
happy  Father  to  kiss  its  damask  cheek.  And  then  they 
sat  down  to  watch  and  wonder  at  the  growing  meaning 
in  its  ways  ;  and  while,  with  a  solemn  tenderness,  they 
talked  of  what  might  be  in  the  dim  far-off  of  Baby's 
future  years,  there  came  a  peculiar  knock  at  the  cham 
ber  door,  vigorous  and  muffled,  as  if  given  by  strong 
knuckles  well-cased  in  folded  flesh  ;  and  directly  there 
entered  in,  puffing  and  beaming,  the  Fat  Nurse  in  whose 
ample  lap  Baby  had  received  its  first  notions  of  active 
life,  when  habitual  trotting  churned  its  daily  bread  into 
buttermilk.  Instead  of  the  frilled  caps  that  had 

nodded  over  Babv's  naps,  she  wore  a  large  black  bon- 

2 


26  NAMING   THE  BABY. 

net  like  a  bombazine  coal-scuttle,  with  an  expansive 
bow  tied  just  in  the  crease  of  her  doable  chin,  and  car 
ried  in  one  hand  a  swelling  basket  whose  lid  was  intri 
cately  fastened  with  a  green  ribbon,  and  in  the  other  a 
bulging  cotton  umbrella,  stout  in  the  stick  and  faded 
in  the  stuff.  She  announced  that  having  just  finished 
np  one  engagement,  and  being  on  her  way  to  another, 
she  had  dropped  i»  to  see  how  her  former  patients 
were  getting  along  ;  and  then  carefully  depositing  bas 
ket  and  umbrella  upon  a  chair,  she  loosened  the  bonnet 
bow;  flung  the  flowing  strings  over  her  broad  shoulders, 
and  took  the  Baby  right  into  her  pillowy  arms,  as  if, 
while  she  was  about,  its  place  was  only  there.  The 
Mother  saw  that  she  looked  at  the  infant  with  critical 
eyes,  and  anxiously  awaited  her  first  remark.  Grad 
ually  the  long  embroidered  robe  began  to  wave  up  and 
down  as  the  two  cushioned  knees  fell  into  their  usual 
motion,  and  Baby's  dinner  kept  time  to  the  rolling; 
mellow  voice.  "  It's  a  growin'  fust  rate,  mum ;  it's  as 
fine  a  child  as  I've  seed  since  I  went  a-nussin' ;  my  babies 
mostly  is  good  speciments  ;  it  ain't  got  no  marks  nor  dis 
torts,  and  no  rashes  nor  chafes.  You've  did  better  than 
most  beginners  with  the  fust ;  it's  pooty  well  over  the 


NAMING   THE  BAST.  27 

colic  time,  and  ain't  got  a  croupy  neck,  so  I  reckon 
it'll  get  on  now  all  right." 

The  fair  little  Mother  sparkled  all  over  at  the  praise 
of  Experience. 

"Now,  mum,"  Nurse  continued,  glaring  benignly 
at  the  white  robe  that  heaved  up  and  down  upon  her 
spacious  lap,  "  you  haven't  told  me  the  young  mi's 
name  ? " 

"  Oh,  Nurse,"  was  the  reply,  "  it's  only  '  Baby  '  yet ; 
we  have  hardly  thought  of  any  other  name  ! " 

"Well,  now,  that's  uncommon,"  rejoined  the  Nurse 
in  a  meditative  tone.  "  If  it  was  the  last  of  a  beggar's 
dozen  I  could  understand  that  you  might  have  run  out 
of  names  ;  but  mostly  .there's  one  cut  and  dried  for  the 
fust  afore  it's  born,  and  it  pops  into  the  world  and  its 
name  both  at  onct." 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  Mother,  "  it  is  generally  so ; 
but  there  are  so  many  to  name  our  Baby  after  that  it  is 
hard  to  decide ;  we  cannot  name  it  for  one  of  the 
Grandmothers  without  hurting  the  feelings ,  of  the 
other ;  and  if  we  were  to  call  it  after  any  of  the 
Aunties,  all  the  rest  would  think  they  were  each  neg 
lected  ;  and  I  do  not  wish  it  christened  after  me  because 


28  NAMING   THE  BABY. 

it  would  seem  so  selfish,  and  there  are  so  many  pretty 
fancy  names  that  we  never  know  which  to  choose." 

Nurse  slowly  laid  again  behind  her  broad  back  the 
bonnet  ribbon  that  had  dandled  forward  by  degrees, 
and  nodded  assentingly  to  these  confidential  remarks. 

"  It's  curious  about  names,"  she  said.  "  I've  been 
a-noticiu'  all  my  life  that  people  grow  like  their  names  ; 
Johns  and  Jameses  ain't  near  so  like  to  go  to  the  bad 
as  your  Howards  and  Augustuses ;  for  you  see,  fine 
names  sort  o'  give  young  uns  hifalutin'  notions.  Many  a 
one  I've  seed  onsettled,  try  in'  to  match  his  doiu's  to  a 
big-soundin'  name,  that  might  have  turned  out  sober 
chap  enough  if  them  he  belonged  to  had  had  sense  to 
call  him  after  some  of  the  plain  old  Bible  folk.  Xow 
there's  me !  You'd  never  guess  what  a  name  I've  got ; 
it  was  a  sore  point  to  me  many  a  long  year  before  I 
plucked  up  courage  to  put  it  down.  My  mother  had 
been  a-readin'  some  trash  or  other  of  a  novel  just 
afore  I  was  born,  and  nothin'  must  do  but  1  must  be 
named  after  the  young  woman  it  was  all  about.  So 
when  daddy  came  into  the  room  to  see  her  and  me,  just 
as  soon  as  she  could  gasp  she  ups  and  says,  "  It's  to  be 
Sophronisber,  Bill;  I've  settled  it  so  in  my  own  mind. 


NAMING   THE  BABY.  29 

The  old  man  like  to  have  gone  off.  '  Don't  you  think 
Susan  would  suit  us  better?'  says  he.  'Susan!'  says 
she,  a-turnin'  up  her  nose,  '  I  ain't  a-goin  to  have  a  child 
of  mine  called  Susan!"  'And  I  don't  think  I  can 
stand  one  of  mine  named  Sofynisby!  Lord,  what  a 
name ! '  says  he.  And  so  they  bandied  the  two  names, 
until  mother  she  was  a-gettin'  excited  and  the  old  man 
mad;  and  Mrs.  Jane  Spotts,  who  was  a-nussin'  of  her, 
she  just  took  him  by  the  collar  and  pulled  him  out  of 
the  room.  But  the  long  and  the  short  of  it  is  he 
wouldn't  give  in  and  neither  would  she,  and  so  they 
tacked  the  two  together,  and  there  I  was,  Sophronisber 
Susan  Boggers !  And  such  a  time  as  I  had  with  that 
name !  When  I  got  big  enough,  the  older  children  they 
all  made  fun  of  it,  and  plagued  me  half  to  death *about 
it ;  and  mother,  she  never  called  me  nothin'  but  full 
Sophronisber,  and  dad,  he  never  called  me  nothin'  but 
Sukey,  and  it  was  '  Phrony,'  and  '  Sophy,'  and  '  Nis,' 
and  '  Sue,'  till  I  had  as  many  names  as  a  cat  has  lives. 
And  after  I  grew  up  it  got  worse,  till  I  was  'shamed  as 
could  be  of  the  horrid  sound,  and  ready  to  cuss  my 
sponsors  in  baptism ;  the  young  fellows  they  sniggered 
over  it,  and  the  gals  they  just  purtended  they  couldn't 


30  NAMING   THE  BABY. 

say  it,  it  was  so  long,  and  used  to  ask  me  to  spell  it  for 
'em,  till  I  got  so  touchy  over  it  it  was  a-spilin'  my  tem 
per,  'cause  I  wasn't  born  a  vixen  at  all.  But  Howbe 
ever,  when  Cuddle  came  along,  and  him  and  me  was  to 
make  a  match,  says  he,  "  I  don't  like  your  name  of  So- 
phronisber ! '  '  No  more  do  I,'  says  I.  '  Let's  drop  it 
then,'  says  he.  '  Agreed,'  says  I.  So  we  got  the  par 
son  to  say  'Susan,  will  you  take  this  man  ?'  and  made 
him  leave  out  the  Sophronisber,  and  Mrs.  Susan  Cuddle 
I  have  been  ever  since.  And  so  I  never  advise  nobody 
to  stick  a  name  to  a  child  that  '11  be  a  thorn  in  their 
side,  when  more  like  most  of  'em  will  have  to  be  about 
homely  things  than  livin'  like  grand  folks  in  a  play. 
How  would  it  sound  for  me  to  be  goin'  out  a-nussin' 
and  Bein'  called  '  Mrs.  Sophronisber  Cuddle '  ?  You 
ladies  would  think  I  was  too  fine  to  know  my  bizuess. 
No  indeed !  Plain  Susan  for  me,  I  say ! " 

Mrs.  Cuddle's  garrulous  recital  might  have  run  on 
interminably,  to  such  polite  listeners ;  but  while  they 
were  laughing  over  it,  the  door  opened,  and  in  walked 
quite  a  family  procession  bearing  cautiously  in  their 
midst  a  snowy  box  bound  and  tied  up  with  bright  and 
dainty  ribbons.  There  were  the  Grandfathers  leaning 


NAMING   THE  BABY.  31 

sturdily  on  their  gold-headed  canes;  and  the  Grand 
mothers  in  their  shining  black  silks  with  their  good- 
natured  faces  just  tipped  to  ruddiness  by  the  outside 
air ;  and  the  Young  Aunties,  a  whole  troop  of  them, 
fresh  and  gushing  and  gay;  and  the  Poor  Eolation, 
clad  in  quiet  dress,  with  the  spiritual  beauty  of  an  un 
selfish  life  written  on  her  countenance.  And  the  blithe 
and  jubilant  greetings  all  over,  the  Grandmothers  laid 
the  box  upon  the  bed,  and  with  deft  fingers  undid  the 
fastenings  and  removed  the  lid,  and  lo !  before  all  the 
sparkling  and  admiring  eyes,  the  wonderfully  worked 
and  delicate,  long  christening  robe !  And  because  all 
those  who  came  with  it  had  had  some  share  in  it,  they  had 
made  up  this  party  to  bring  it  all  together  to  the  only 
Baby  in  the  family  on  whom  they  all  already  doted. 
One  Grandfather  had  given  the  material ;  and  the  other, 
who  was  something  of  an  artist,  in  his  leisure  hours  had 
drawn  the  design,  with  quite  a  pride  in  its  leaves  and 
flowers  as  they  grew  and  entwined  beneath  his  gold- 
rimmed  spectacles;  and  one  Grandmother  had  made  it 
up,  and  the  other  had  set  in  the  lace-like  wheels  of  some 
fine  old-fashioned  stitch  that  had  been  familiar  in  the 
far-off  days  of  her  girlhood;  and  the  Young  Aunties 


32  NAMING  THE  BABY. 

had  each  embroidered  buds  and  sprays,  roses  and  scrolls, 
with  much  comparing  of  work,  and  chatting  over  the 
"  Angel "  who  was  to  wear  it ;  while  the  Poor  Relation 
had  aided  her  Crippled  Sister  to  finish  it  off  with  all 
those  parts  which  had  required  unwearying  patience 
and  a  steady  hand.  As  it  lay  there  before  them,  beauti 
ful  in  feminine  sight,  a  dumb,  exquisite  thing  of  cam 
bric  and  thread,  it  seemed  almost  hallowed  to  the 
mother's  heart  by  reason  of  the  richness  of  love  that 
had  made  it,  and  spoke  to  her,  like  a  voice,  of  the  ten 
derness  with  which  old  and  young  had  wrought  out 
their  thought  for  her  little  one ;  tears  filled  her  soft 
eyes ;  she  reverently  lifted  the  little  dress  and  kissed  it. 
"  O  Baby ! "  she  cried,  with  a  sweet  quiver  in  her 
tones,  holding  it  up  before  the  unconscious  optics  that 
were  engaged  in  watching  the  bobbing  up  and  down 
of  its  other  sweeping  garments  which  the  Fat  Niirse 
still  monotonously  kept  going,  "  look  what  they  have 
done  for  you  !  All  of  them,  my  darling,  all  of  them  !  " 
And  then  she  laid  the  snowy  robe  carefully  back  on 
the  bed,  and  catching  one  head  after  another  in  her 
embracing  arms,  caressed  and  thanked  them,  half  laugh 
ing  and  half  crying.  All  talked  at  once,  till  an  excited 


NAMING   THE  BABY.  33 

Grandfather  rapped  upon  the  floor  with  his  gold-headed 
cane,  producing  a  moment's  lull,  of  which  he  availed 
himself  to  speak. 

"  Here,"  said  he,  "is  the  christening  frock;  but  we 
have  not  heard  yet  what  is  the  Baby's  name  ?  " 

And  the  Young  Mother  was  again  obliged  to  make 
humiliating  confession  that  Baby  was  still  a  nameless 
waif ;  whereupon  arose  once  more  a  chorus  of  voices, 
exclaiming  and  suggesting,  until  the  other  Grandfather 
also  called  the  meeting  to  order,  and  there  was  a 
general  subsidence  into  a  semicircle  of  chairs  to  de 
bate  the  important  question.  The  Young  Mother  took 
her  Baby  in  her  own  arms,  and  sat  upon  the  low  seat  in 
their  midst,  and  the  Father  stood  half  behind  her, 
looking  down  upon  the  two  who  were  dearer  to  him 
than  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  and  it  was  the  old,  old 
picture  of  the  Holy  Family — the  picture  that  stirred 
the  hearts  of  dead  and  famous  painters,  till  the  most 
beautiful  thing  that  art  and  religion  and  human  spirits 
knew  was  this  familiar  vision  of  the  mother  and  child  ; 
for  whether  it  be  Mary  and  the  infant  Christ,  or 
whether  it  be  a  modern  mother  and  her  baby,  it  is  the 
highest  and  purest  and  loveliest  picture  that  shines 

9.* 


34  NAMING   THE  BABY. 

upon  the  dark  backgrounds  of  life,  and  is  seen  in  homes 
all  over  earth — the  rich  man's  palace  and  the  poor 
man's  hut. 

"  Now,  then,"  remarked  Grandfather  No.  One,  "  the 
matter  under  discussion  is,  '  What  is  to  be  the  Baby's 
Name  ? ' " 

"It  appears  to  me,"  said  Grandfather  No.  Two, 
"  that  this  is  not  our  business  at  all ;  it  belongs  to 
them,"  and  he  pointed  with  his  cane  to  the  Young 
Father  and  Mother. 

"Well,  now,"  chirruped  Grandmother  No.  One,  "it 
will  be  pleasant  to  talk  it  over,  and  if  they  have  not 
made  a  choice,  perhaps  we  can  help  them  to  something 
that  will  suit." 

"  Dear  me  ! "  exclaimed  Grandmother  No.  Two,  "  it 
is  a  girl ;  and  if  a  girl  is  pretty  and  nice,  as  our  Baby  is 
sure  to  be,  it  doesn't  matter  much  what  her  name  is !  " 

"  Oh,  don't  it  ?  "  interposed  the  Fat  Nurse,  sotto  voce, 
and  the  young  couple  smiled  at  the  recollection  of  Mrs. 
Cuddle's  early  woes  with  her  romantic  cognomen. 

"  Call  it  after  Sis,"  hypocritically  observed  one 
Young  Auntie,  indicating  another  Young  Auntie  witli 
a  slight  flirt  of  her  neatly-gloved  hand. 


NAMING   THE  BABY.  35 

"  Oh,  not  for  the  world  !  "  impressively  replied  the 
other  young  lady ;  "  your  name  is  so  much  sweeter 
than  mine  that  I  am  sure  it  ought  to  be  called  after 
you  !  " 

And  another  Young  Auntie  sentimentally  murmured, 
"  Name  it  Angelina,  do ;  because  it  is  such  a  seraph, 
you  know ! "  And  the  Fat  Nurse  looked  at  her  quench- 
ingly,  and  said  so  lugubriously,  "  Better  Susan  than 
Sophronisber !  "  that  they  all  laughed,  though  only 
Baby's  Father  and  Mother  understood  the  personal 
allusion. 

And  then,  one  after  another,  each  proposed  a  differ 
ent  name,  and  the  Young  Mother  had  to  exercise  great 
tact  and  diplomacy  to  decline  all  without  giving 
offence ;  and  ever  and  anon  she  glanced  over  at  the 
Poor  Relation,  who  alone  sat  silent,  gazing  with  floating 
eyes  at  the  Baby  and  its  parents,  as  if  she  saw  the  pic 
ture  Raphael  painted,  as  if  she  comprehended  the  holi 
ness  of  the  child,  the  sanctity  of  the  mother — she  who 
would  never  have  a  baby  of  her  own. 

And  they  brought  up  all  the  family  names,  and  those 
of  Biblical  heroines,  from  Eve  to  Phebe,  whom  Paul 
commended  as  a  "  succorer  of  many  ;  "  and  there  was 


36  NAMING   THE  BABY. 

much  chiding  of  each  other's  tastes,  and  quips  and 
quirks  and  merry  sayings  over  the  associations  aroused, 
and  affected  little  shrieks  of  horror  from  the  Aunties 
at  the  unpoetic  title  of  some  otherwise  forgotten  ances 
tress,  and  much  consequent  recalling  of  family  history, 
and  great  rolling  of  the  eyes  and  raising  of  the  hands 
at  the  Judiths  and  Deborahs  of  the  Scriptures.  But 
the  young  parents  seemed  hard  to  please,  and  objections 
were  offered  to  everything  proposed. 

At  last,  one  of  the  Grandmothers,  who  had  had  her 
ups  and  downs  in  life,  and  was  therefore  a  rather 
worldly  old  lady  in  so  far  as  she  was  anxious  to  save 
all  those  belonging  to  her  from  corresponding  downs, 
and  equally  desirous  to  secure  for  them  all  possible  ups> 
insisted  upon  a  moment's  silence  of  the  mingling  voices, 
as  she  had  an  important  motion  to  make. 

"  My  Dear,"  she  said  to  the  Mother,  evidently  consid 
ering  the  Father's  opinion  on  the  subject  quite  a  secon 
dary  and  insignificant  consideration,  "  in  naming  the 
Baby  would  it  not  be  well  to  regard  something  else 
than  a  mere  pleasing  of  the  fancy — your  child's  future 
advantage,  for  instance  ?  Now,  there's  your  Aunt  Han 
nah  " — here  there  was  a  simultaneous  outcry  from  the 


NAMING   THE  BABY.  37 

Aunties,  which  caused  the  Grandmother  to  shake  her 
politic  old  head  at  them,  and  address  the  conclusion  of 
her  remarks  to  those  fastidious  butterflies.  "  Oh,  yes  ! 
you  midges,"  she  continued,  "  I  know  it  is  not  a  pretty 
name ;  but  Aunt  Hannah  is  enormously  rich,  and  has  no 
one  in  particular  to  bequeath  her  money  to,  and  never 
tells  any  one  what  she  is  going  to  do  with  it.  She  is  a 
lone  creature,  and  who  knows  but  it  would  give  her  a 
new  interest  to  have  our  little  one  called  after  her ;  she 
might  be  enough  pleased  to  make  it  her  heir,  and  the 
very  least  she  could  do  for  the  compliment  would  be  to 
leave  it  a  handsome  sum  for  its  name ! "  and  the 
worldly  old  lady  looked  triumphantly  around  her  as  if 
she  had  unquestionably  propounded  a  final  satisfactory 
solution  to  the  difficulty.  There  was  a  momentary 
pause ;  even  the  most  thoughtless  and  gushing  of  the 
Aunties  saw  the  possible  good  thing  for  the  Baby  in 
the  proposed  arrangement,  and  had  not  the  heart  to 
venture  a  word  against  the  chance  of  a  prospective  for 
tune  for  the  general  darling ;  while  the  elder  people 
waited  in  evident  anxiety  for  the  parents'  reply,  and 
Baby  crowed  away  in  happy  unconsciousness  of  schem 
ing  sapience.  But  the  Young  Father's  face  flushed, 

392450 


38  NAMING   THE  BABY. 

and  the  Young  Mother  lifted  her  graceful  head  a  little 
haughtily,  as  she  emphatically  answered  : 

"  No,  mamma,  I  will  not  lay  upon  my  child's  clean 
life  the  stain  of  mercenary  motive  !  Not  for  all  Aunt 
Hannah  owns  would  I  have  my  Baby  grow  up  to  know 
I  had  been  so  mean  as  to  use  its  precious  name  as  a 
bait  to  catch  money  !  How  could  I  teach  her  higher 
things  when  she  had  learned  1  thought  so  much  of 
gold  ?  I  could  never  look  Aunt  Hannah  straight  in  the 
face  again ;  I  should  be  sure  of  her  suspicion  of  design, 
and  I  should  feel  as  if  I  had  given  over  Baby  and  my 
self  to  a  degrading  bondage  of  expectation  depending 
on  another's  death !  I  will  trust  her  good  fortune  to 
God  ;  we  must  not  stoop  for  it !  "  „ 

Grandfather  No.  One  rapped  approval  with  his  gold- 
headed  cane  and  ejaculated,  "  Spoken  like  my  own 
brave  lass!"  Grandfather  No.  Two  said,  with  just  a 
pei'ceptible  inflection  of  disappointment,  "  When  she 
comes  to  our  age  she  will  have  found  out  that  money 
is  more  useful  than  pride ! "  The  relieved  Young 
Aunties  clapped  their  applauding  hands,  and  the  hus 
band  leaned  over  and  kissed  the  delicate  cheek,  a  trifle 
paler  from  the  unusual  act  of  self -assertion  against 


NAMING   THE  BABY.  39 

maternal  guidance,  while  the  defeated  Grandmother 
rustled  her  shining  black  silk,  and  grew  rather  redder 
in  her  ruddy  face,  as  she  somewhat  testily  exclaimed, 
"  Well  then,  what  are  you  going  to  name  the  child  for, 
and  who  are  you  going  to  call  it  after  ? " 

A  soft  blush  suffused  the  Young  Mother's  tender 
face,  that  had  bent  over  her  cooing  Baby,  and  her 
voice  took  even  a  sweeter  melody  as  she  replied  : 

"  Since  we  have  been  talking  it  over,  quite  a  new 
thought  has  come  to  me  about  Baby's  name.  Nurse 
says  that  people  grow  like  their  names,  but  I  myself 
have  observed  that  children,  in  time,  resemble  the 
persons  they  are  called  for ;  I  suppose  they  naturally 
feel  a  peculiar  interest  in  and  try  to  imitate  those 
whose  name  they  bear;  and  there  is  one  we  know 
whom  1  should  like  my  little  girl  to  model  after,  one 
who  is  good,  and  pure,  and  true  ;  who  has  kept  a  white 
soul  through  dark  days  and  hard  times  ;  who  has  been 
faithful  in  all  things,  thinking  more  of  others  than  of 
herself ;  never  faltering  in  the  path  of  right,  and  more 
nobly  fearless  before  a  wrong  than  any  man  I  ever 
saw ;  who  is  a  ministering  spirit  to  us  all,  arid  worthy 
of  the  best  we  can  give  her  ;  who  lives  humbly  among 


40  NAMING   THE  BAB7. 

men,  but  never  forgets  the  presence  of  her  God  ! " 
And  the  Young  Mother  rose  up  with  her  Baby  in  her 
arms,  and  stood  before  the  Poor  Relation.  "  And  so,1 
dear  Cousin  Mary,"  she  said,  "  because  I  would  have 
my  child  grow  like  you,  will  you  let  me  give  her  your 
name  ? " 

And  the  Poor  Relation  was  so  surprised  and  over 
come  at  being  thus  honored  in  the  midst  of  them  all, 
that  she  could  scarcely  speak  ;  and  the  Father  warmly 
seconded  his  wife's  requests,  and  the  rest  crowded 
quickly  around  her,  shook  her  hands,  and  made  her 
feel  they  were  glad  of  the  choice  ;  for  somehow  the 
Young  Mother's  little  speech  had  suddenly  set  her  be 
fore  them  in  clearer  light  than  they  were  used  to  see 
her,  and  the  beauty  of  her  unobtrusive  life  glorified 
her  for  a  moment  even  more  than  the  accepted  fact 
that  she  was  henceforth  an  important  member  of  the 
family,  since  the  first  grand'child  had  been  named  after 
her.  And  the  worldly  old  Grandmother  forgot  the  ups 
and  downs  of  the  past  and  future,  and  magnanimously 
said  to  her :  "  My  daughter  is  wiser  in  her  generation 
than  I ;  it  is  better  to  be  good  than  wealthy  ;  "  while 
the  Fat  Nurse,  having  sat  the  whole  visit  through,  iu 


NAltING   THE  BABY.  41 

order  to  satisfy  her  curiosity  as  to  what  would  be  the 
end  of  it,  tied  her  bonnet-strings  in  the  crease  of  her 
double  chin,  picked  up  the  portly  basket  and  stout 
umbrella,  ejaculating,  "  It's  a  heap  more  sensible  then 
toadyin'  rich  folks  in  the  cradle !  "  and  trotted  off  with 
very  much  the  same  motion  as  that  which  shook  up  so 
many  infantile  breakfasts.  And  then  the  family  meet 
ing  broke  up,  wending  their  way  in  groups,  talking  it 
over  still  as  they  went. 

As  the  Poor  Relation  walked  homeward,  there  was  a 
shining  in  her  eyes,  a  color  in  her  cheeks,  and  a  light 
ness  in  her  step,  that  had  not  been  there  for  many  a 
day  ;  the  sun  was  brighter  to  her,  the  skies  bluer,  the 
fields  greener,  than  she  had  ever  seen  them  since  her 
vanished  youth ;  she  was  full  of  yearning  thoughts  of 
the  little  one  and  its  mother ;  she  even  said  over  her 
own  name  to  herself  with  a  little  happy  laugh  that  was 
half  a  sob  of  delight  too  ;  and  she  paused  once  to  lift 
_up  her  soul  in  an  earnest,  aspiring  prayer  that  her 
Father  in  heaven  would  help  her  to  keep  her  name 
worthy  to  be  •worn  by  the  pure  spirit  whose  angel  be 
held  His  face.  She  felt  as  if  she  bad  a  partnership  in 
this  new  being  forever;  it  was  a  fresh  and  solemn  link 


42  NAMING   THE  BABY. 

to  life  and  eternity.  A  rush  of  love  for  it  flooded  her 
heart,  and  she,  who  had  neither  husband  nor  child, 
understood  for  a  moment  the  blissful  sense  of  mother 
hood.  But  when  she  reached  the  vine-wreathed  porch 
where  her  Aged  Father  and  Mother  sat  together  in  the 
declining  golden  sun,  she  sank  down  on  the  steps  at 
their  feet,  and  could  only  cry  like  a  very  touched  and 
tender  woman,  as  she  told  in  her  sweet  and  simple  way 
about  this  Naming  of  the  Baby. 


III. 


ONE   OF   THE   AUNTIES. 

EVERYBODY  said  that  there  never  was  such  a  Baby; 
and  being  the  first  one  for  many  years  in  two  very 
large  families,  there  were  plenty  of  voices  to  ring  per 
petual  changes  of  admiration  on  its  growing  beauties 
and  graces  ;  especially  were  the  Young  Aunties — that 
gay  and  gushing  troop  of  happy  girls,  Enthusiastic  over 
the  little  treasure  of  human  life  that  made  such  funny 
passes  at  their  bright  ribbons  with  its  tiny  dots  of 
hands,  or  crowed  with  delight  in  answer  to  their  un 
wearied  efforts  at  entertainment.  Never  did  any  other 
baby  born  into  this  world  possess  such  lovely  eyes,  or 
such  bewitching  dimples,  or  such  beautiful  golden 
rings  of  hair !  The  flesh  of  all  infants  is  soft,  but 
surely  none  other  ever  had  such  a  pure  and  velvety 
skin  !  And  oh,  the  little  pink-soled  feet !  was  there 
ever  anything  on  earth  so  cunning  and  so  tender  as 


M  ONE  OF  THE  AUNTIES. 

those  plump,  helpless  activities  tipped  with  such  mi 
nute  and  perfect  bits  of  toes  ?  Then  the  intelligence  of 
this  precious  pet  !  How  they  chronicled  among  them 
selves  its  dawning  smiles,  and  its  pin-provoked  percep 
tions  of  pain — symbol  of  many  another  torture  that  life 
endures  from  unperceived  moral  pin-pricks.  How 
they  saw  intellect  written  on  its  expanding  brow,  and 
detected  offered  kisses  in  the  dewy  mouth  pouting  with 
undissipated  dream  of  milky  draught !  And  the  like 
nesses  they  perceived,  even  in  the  scarcely  defined  nose 
and  decidedly  double  chin  !  And  the  predictions  they 
made  of  romantic  destinies  in  the  future,  and  the 
delight  and  wonder  and  half-motheiiiness  they  all  had 
over  this  live  doll,  that  somehow  stirred  up  the  woman- 
hearts  of  these  untried  natures  into  vague  longings  and 
instinctive  sympathies!  Every  morning,  when  the 
Young  Mother  went  through  her  greatest  enjoyment  of 
giving  her  Baby  its  daily  bath  with  her  own  hands, 
there  was  sure  also  to  be  a  fair  and  smiling  Auntie 
beside  the  little  tub  to  sing  or  chirrup  down  the  faint, 
gasping  cry  at  the  first  plunge  in  the  clear  water,  to 
plash  with  rosy  fingers  the  warm,  lucid  drops  over  the 
fat  and  dimpled  shoulders,  or  to  watch  with  dancing 


ONE  OF  THE  AUNTIES.  45 

eyes  the  round,  white  limbs  kicking  up  the  shining 
waves  against  the  soft,  bare  body,  and  the  Baby  would 
crow  up  to  the  Young  Mother  and  the  Young  Auntie, 
and  they  would  chorus  the  crow,  and  laugh  back 
together  in  so  sweet  and  innocent  happiness,  and  talk 
broken  English  to  their  darling  both  at  once,  till  it  was 
better  than  any  play  to  see,  and  a  sort  of  unwritten 
poem  of  the  pure  joy  of  humanity. 

And  never  was  a  Baby  that  had  apparently  as  many 
needs  as  this  one  ;  never  were  a  deft  set  of  Aunties  so 
busy  in  providing  superfluities  of  worsted  and  embroid 
ery;  patterns  became  their  chief  interest,  and  new 
designs  their  perpetual  quest ;  knitting-needles  clicked 
constantly,  and  coquettish  crochet-baskets  hung  grace 
fully  from  the  silken  belts ;  and  the  result  was  that 
Baby  had  socks  enough  for  a  centipede,  small  blankets 
sufficient  to  clothe  a  moderate-sized  tribe  of  Afghans, 
more  bibs  than  would  protect  the  undeveloped  necks  of 
an  orphan  asylum,  and  sacks  and  caps  and  wraps  of  all 
shapes  and  materials  enough  to  have  fitted  out  half 
a  dozen  destitute  missionary  boxes;  and  in  fact  the 
perplexed  Young  Mother  did  surreptitiously  bestow  up 
on  less  favored  infancy  many  a  donation  from  the  over- 


46  ONE  OF  THE  AUNTIES. 

flowing  wardrobe  of  this  fortunate  mite.  But  the  gen 
erous  Young  Aunties  did  not  miss  anything  ;  they  had 
time  and  zephyrs  in  plenty,  love  and  leisure  in  full ;  so 
they  went  on  industriously  increasing  the  store,  and 
glowing  over  their  own  good  works. 

Once,  on  a  sunny  morning,  one  of  the  brighest,  and 
gayest,  and  cheeriest  of  the  Young  Aunties  set  out  for 
the  Baby's  home  with  another  new  gift  for  the 
precious  little  one — a  light,  white,  dainty  thing,  fleecy 
as  a  cloud  and  warm  as  the  eider-duck's  down.  She  did 
not  step  out  quite  as  briskly  or  into  as  springy  a  walk 
as  the  Young  Aunties  generally  were  wont  to  do,  for 
there  was  an  air  of  expectancy  in  the  lingering  pace,  and 
a  sort  of  watchful,  yet  timid  hope  in  the  lustrous  hazel 
eyes,  which  betokened  that  some  one  could  gladden 
the  sight  thereof.  But  suddenly  the  walk  quickened 
a  little,  and  the  white  lids  dropped  their  curled  lashes 
upon  the  flushing  cheek,  as  a  tall  figure  hove  in  view 
with  an  unmistakable  sea-roll  in  the  gait,  and  then 
there  was  a  greeting,  half -cordial  and  half-shy,  and  the 
handsome  Young  Sailor  turned  about  and  walked  on 
with  the  Young  Auntie.  Suddenly  for  those  two — 
chatting  lightly  of  this  thing  and  that,  of  the  weather  at 


ONE  OF  THE  A  UNTIES.  47 

home  and  on  the  ocean  waves,  of  the  last  party  and  the 
latest  news,  even  of  the  Baby  in  their  blithe  and  bliss 
ful  mood — for  those  two  all  the  common  way  before 
them  was  changed  to  a  golden  street;  the  soft  air 
intoxicated  them  with  gladness,  and  the  sunshine 
seemed  to  fold  round  them  warm  and  bright,  as  if  to 
shut  out  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  and  life  was  beauti 
ful  on  the  happy  earth  as  in  those  ancient  days  of  inno 
cence  and  Eden,  for  they  were  young,  they  were 
together,  and  their  hearts  were  trembling  with  the  joy 
of  a  yet  unspoken  dream.  For  this  gallant  officer,  who 
had  more  than  once  faced  death  undaunted  by  danger, 
and  undismayed  by  stormy  winds  of  tempest  or  of 
battle,  had  never  found  courage  to  speak  three  little 
words  to  the  fair  girl  whom  he  loved  better  than  his 
life.  And  she,  oh !  be  sure,  she  was  gay  and  gleeful 
with  him,  and  believed  she  gave  no  sign  of  the  sweet 
secret  that  tinted  her  soft  cheeks  whenever  he  drew 
near,  and  filled  the  sparkling  eyes  with  such  new  and 
tender  light.  At  last  they  reached  the  Baby's  home, 
and  he  was  loth  to  leave  her,  and  she  longed  for  him  to 
linger;  so  upon  half  a  hint  she  breathed  an  invitation, 
that  seemed  like  a  blessing,  for  him  to  come  into  the 


48  ONE  OF  THE  AUNTIES. 

house  and  wait  till  she  had  given  the  Baby  her  gi 
and  then — oh,  then  they  both  knew  -there  would    be 
another  walk  back  upon  the  golden  street ! 

But  as  the  young  man  sat  waiting  in  the  quiet  parlor 
while  the  Young  Auntie  ran  upstairs  to  caress  the  Baby 
and  present  the  last  marvellous  effort  in  zephyrs,  he  saw 
her  still  before  him ;  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  should 
always  see  her  as  he  had  looked  upon  her  that  morning 
in  her  youth,  and  grace,  and  peerless  beauty ;  that  she 
could  never  change  or  grow  old  to  him,  but  would  for 
ever  and  ever  live  in  his  heart  as  fresh,  as  pure,  as  en 
chanting  as  to-day — his  first  true  love,  the  one  woman  in 
all  the  world  for  him.  And  after  a  mental  spasm  of 
great  humility  as  to  his  own  unworthiness,  and  an  in 
ward  reproof  of  his  own  presumption  in  aspiring  to  the 
love  of  a  being  so  angelic,  there  came  into  his  mind  a 
nervous  impatience  of  any  longer  delay  in  learning  his 
fate,  and  he  determined  that,  come  what  would,  he 
would  ask  her  to  be  his  before  they  parted  again  that 
day ;  but  how  to  do  it,  oh !  how  to  do  it  ?  That  was  the 
question  he  was  revolving  in  uneasy  perplexity,  when, 
pit-a-pat,  he  caught  the  tapping  sound  of  her  tiny,  high- 
heeled  boots,  and  his  heart  leaped  as  she  stood  before 


ONE  OF  THE  AUNTIES.  49 

him  again.  Was  it  a  mere  artifice  of  feminine  coquetry, 
or  was  it  some  deeper  womanly  instinct,  that  had  made 
her  throw  off  her  hat  and  bring  down  the  Baby  in  her 
girlish  arms  to  show  the  embarrassed  Young  Sailor  the 
Family  Pride,  of  whose  infantile  perfections  he  had 
heard  so  much  from  the  adoring  Aunties  ?  And  the 
Baby  cooed,  and  the  Young  Auntie  chirruped,  bending 
her  bright  face  over  the  downy  little  head  that  nestled 
against  her  bosom  ;  and  a  new  vision  flashed  into  the 
lover's  dream — the  sweet  vision  of  wife  and  child  upon 
hearthstone  of  his  own — the  first  vague,  longing  sense  of 
fatherhood  inherent  in  man's  nature  awoke  at  the  recog 
nition  of  the  intuitive  motherliness  in  the  woman's;  it 
added  a  strong  and  tender  yearning  to  the  passionate 
love  ;  it  calmed  the  unquiet  of  his  doubts,  and  steadied 
his  trembling  purpose,  as  with  almost  conscious 
ownership  he  leaned  over  the  Baby  and  its  bonny 
nurse. 

"  Just  listen  to  its  darling  baby-talk  !  "  cried  she,  de 
lighted  with  Baby's  amiability  in  showing  off.  "  Oh, 
you  precious  petty,  coo — coo  — coo  !  " 

"  Coo — coo — coo  !  "  gurgled  back  the  echoing  tones 

from  the  little  dot  of  a  rosy  mouth. 
3 


50  ONE  OF  THE  AUXTIES. 

"  Do  you  understand  that  sort  of  language  ?  "  quietly 
the  bold  Young  Sailor  asked.  . 

"  Of  course,"  was  the  indignant  reply  ;  "  everybody 
that  has  anything  to  do  with  a  baby  knows  just  what  it 
means ;  there,  it  is  coo-cooing  now  to  tell  you  it  under 
stands  all  you  say  ! " 

"  Then,  Baby,"  he  gravely  said,  and  somehow  he 
caught  the  tiny  ball  of  a  fist  and  the  young  girl's  little 
white  hand  both  at  once  in  his  big  brown  one,  "  tell 
your  dear  Auntie  how  truly  I  love  her,  and  how  much  I 
hope  to  call  her  mine  !  " 

It  was  all  done,  and  the  Young  Auntie  never  knew 
what  she  answered,  or  how  it  came  to  pass ;  but  she  and 
Baby  were  gathered  up  together  in  the  strong  arms,  and 
half -laughing,  half-crying,  she  soothed  the  Baby's  aston 
ished  cry  between  the  first  kisses  of  first  love.  When 
the  Young  Mother  heard  the  faint  echo  of  that  sudden, 
sharp  wail,  she  sped  unsuspectingly  down-stairs  to  see 
what  was  happening  to  her  child  ;  and,  as  she  floated 
into  the  room,  she  read  the  old,  old  story  that  was  being 
told  over  again  with  her  Baby  in  the  midst  thereof — her 
Baby,  that  was  now  gazing  up  with  wise,  wide  eyes  into 
the  Young  Auntie's  blushing  countenance,  and  was  so 


ONE  OF  THE  AUNTIES.  51 

encircled  by  two  pairs  of  arms  that  she  scarcely  knew 
which  to  take  it  from ;  but  after  a  loving  embrace  and 
a  hearty  hand-shake,  she  carried  Baby  off  at  last,  recall 
ing  her  own  cherished  love-tale,  and  left  the  happy 
young  lovers  to  themselves. 

Soon  after  this  there  was  a  gay  wedding,  with  a  long 
train  of  the  other  Young  Aunties  for  bridesmaids,  and 
a  grand  show  of  uniforms,  and  a  bright  glancing  of 
naval  buttons  that  made  Baby's  eyes  dance  with  delight, 
for  Baby  was  particularly  and  pressingly  invited  to  the 
marriage  ;  and  when  the  gray-haired  minister  solemnly 
asked,  "Who  giveth  this  woman  to  be  married  to  this 
man  ? "  cooed  out  so  loud  and  so  long  that  a  general 
smile  burst  out  among  the  audience,  and  even  made 
rainbows  in  the  Grandmother's  glistening  tears. 

Then,  in  a  little  while,  there  was  one  of  those  sad 
partings  that  wring  the  life  from  out  young  hearts,  and 
a  gallant  ship  had  gone  to  sea,  while  a  fair  bride  was 
left  at  home  to  count  the  days  of  absence. 

Then  came  watchings  for  interminable  letters,  anx 
ious  suspense  over  a  single  missing  mail,  shudders  at 
news  of  storms  and  disasters  on  the  ocean,  and  a  gradual 
sedateness,  growing  from  an  absorbing  interest,  settling 


52  ONE  OF  THE  AUNTIES. 

the  gushing  gayety  of  girlhood.  Then  there  was  an 
unusual  silence  ;  more  than  one  appointed  time  passed 
away  and  brought  no  letter ;  a  frightened,  far-off  look 
clouded  the  old  brightness  of  sparkling  eyes,  and  even 
the  postman  hurried  with  averted  head  more  swiftly 
by  the  wistful  face  watching  him  from  the  window, 
knowing  well  that  among  the  many  messages  he  car 
ried  of  love  and  life  and  death,  there  was  none  for 
her.  And  then  at  last  there  was  published  the  awful 
news  that  thrilled  the  land — the  ship  he  sailed  in  had 
gone  down  at  sea,  and  every  soul  on  board  had 
perished. 

The  worst  anguish  of  life  had  fallen  on  her — such 
agony  as  comes  but  once  to  a  woman,  and  pales  forever 
the  storied  tortures  of  the  Burning  Lake ;  that  takes  all 
values  out  of  the  things  of  this  world,  in  which  eternity 
becomes  comprehensible  through  the  infinitude  of 
suffering,  and  the  terrible  solitude  of  the  spirit  which 
for  the  time  is  reached  and  touched  by  nought  in  the 
universe,  neither  God  nor  man.  She  sat  in  the  midst 
of  mourning  friends,  but  shed  no  tear;  all  the  great 
salt-  waves  of  the  unfathomed  ocean  were  sweeping 
over  him ;  tears  of  hers  could  not  even  fall  upon  his 


ONE  OF  THE  AUNTIES.  53 

grave;  words  of  tenderness,  of  consolation,  of  hope 
beyond  the  tomb,  were  spoken  to  her ;  she  heard  only 
the  moaning  sound  of  the  never  silent  sea ;  day  and 
night,  in  her  thoughts  and  in  her  dreams,  she  saw  a  ship 
go  down  into  the  deep,  and  beheld  the  cruel  and 
hungry  waters  sweeping  over  the  swaying  form  of  her 
dead.  She  sat  in  darkness,  for  the  light  of  day  was 
a  mockery ;  she  rose  up  and  lay  down  as  she  was 
directed,  but  she  neither  spoke  nor  noticed  any  living 
being  save  the  gentle  Poor  Relation,  whose  mission 
on  earth  seemed  to  be  that  of  ministering  to  those  sick 
and  in  affliction ;  she  appeared  to  have  a  dim  percep 
tion,  born  of  that  insight  into  another's  grief  that 
personal  endurance  sometimes  gives,  that  here  too  was 
a  lonely  soul  that  had  suffered  loss  and  known  sorrow's 
worst  extreme,  and  in  a  mute,  pathetic  fashion  she 
clung  to  her  a  little,  following  her  movements  with 
her  listless  glance,  and  laying  her  weary  head  upon  the 
patient  breast.  One  day,  the  old  family  doctor,  who 
had  held  her  in  his  arms  when  she  had  uttered  life's 
first  gasping  cry,  came  from  her  room  with  a  troubled 
face,  saying  softly  in  tremulous  tones,  "  She  must  weep, 
or  she  will  die."  And  they  gathered  about  her — all 


54  ONE  OF  THE  AUNTIES. 

those  she  most  loved — the  Mother  and  the  Father  and 
all  the  saddened  Yonng  Aunties,  and  talked  tenderly 
before  her  of  her  lost  husband  ;  praised  his  beauty  and 
his  ways,  his  courage  and  his  worth,  and  raised  up  their 
voices  and  wept  for  him  in  her  presence.  She  rocked 
herself  back  and  forth,  and  moaned  as  they  spoke,  but 
she  listened  with  dry  eyes  still,  and  a  touching  terror 
pervaded  the  hushed  household. 

But  one  day,  when  the  Poor  Relation  necessarily 
returned  to  her  own  home,  she  entered  the  chamber 
where  her  Crippled  Sister,  with  tireless  fingers,  wove 
embroidered  flowers  into  fine,  flowing  muslin,  and  lo ! 
she  was  softly  keeping  time  to  the  leaf-forming  stitches 
with  the  plaintive  rhythm  of  Tennyson's  sweet  song, 
"  Home  they  brought  her  warrior  dead."  Oh,  what  a 
thought  flashed  into  the  Poor  Relation's  mind !  Out 
of  the  house  she  flew  like  a  bird,  and  with  swift  feet 
fled  along  the  way  that  had  been  to  the  lovers  a  golden 
street,  and  breathless,  entered  the  nursery  where  Baby 
slept  the  rosy  sleep  of  innocence. 

A  few  explanatory  words  to  the  sympathetic  Young 
Mother,  pale  also  with  sisterly  anxiety,  and  Baby  was 
lifted  out  of  its  warm  nest,  fortified  with  requisite 


ONE  OF  THE  AUNTIES.  55 

refreshment,  and  wrapped  in  the  very  white  and  fluffy 
thing  that  the  Young  Auntie  had  brought  it  on  the 
eventful  morning  of  her  love ;  and  then  back  with  bur 
dened  arms  and  swelling  heart  sped  the  Poor  Relation 
to  the  sorrow-stricken  dwelling.  She  crossed  the  shad 
owed  room  unnoticed,  and  softly  laid  the  little  one  on 
the  widowed  breast.  For  the  first  time  the  pallid  lips 
quivered,  and  Baby — the  blessed  Baby — looked  up  into 
the  drawn  and  colorless  face,  and  cooed  and  cooed  as  if 
it  had  brought  a  message.  Then,  at  the  sweet,  familiar 
sound,  the  tears  burst  out,  and  flowed  and  flowed,  and 
great  sobs  shook  her  fragile  frame,  and  the  Poor  Rela 
tion  cried  also,  and  the  tears  of  the  two  women  mingled 
and  fell  fast  like  fountains  upon  the  Baby,  till  Baby 
began  to  feel  very  damp,  and  so  joined  in  and  took  a 
good  cry  too. 

Every  day  after  that  the  Poor  Relation  came  on  her 
errand  of  mercy,  bearing  the  Baby,  whose  unconscious 
ministry  was  softening  this  stony  grief;  for  wifehood 
may  pass  away,  widowhood  may  be  overlived,  but  the 
sense  of  motherhood  that  has  been  or  might  have  been, 
lies  very  deep  in  the  heart  of  a  woman.  But  one  day, 
as  she  entered  the  house,  Baby  was  suddenly  snatched 


56  ONE  OF  THE  AUNTIES. 

away  from  her,  all  the  Young  Aunties  seemed  to  clutch 
her  at  once,  and  half  carried  her  into  the  presence  of  a 
sunburned  Sailor,  who  caught  her  in  his  strong  embrace 
as  if  she  had  been  his  own  sister.  And  then  was  told 
the  wonderful  story  of  the  wreck,  and  the  rescue  by  a 
homeward-bound  but  slow-sailing  vessel,  and  a  chorus 
of  carefully  toned  voices  repeated,  "  And  now,  Cousin 
Mary,  you  must  tell  her,  you  must  tell  her  right 
away ! " 

Once  more  in  the  lonely  and  darkened  chamber,  the 
Poor  Relation  put  her  arms  around  the  pale  girl- wife, 
who  wondered  now  why  she  had  come  without  the 
Baby. 

"My  darling,  I  have  brought  you  something  even 
sweeter  than  the  Baby,"  was  the  gentle  answer ;  "  a 
very  gospel,  dear  heart ;  good  tidings  of  great  joy." 

"  Joy  to  me,  Cousin  Mary  ?  Oh,  never  agam  !  The 
awful  sound  of  the  sea  shuts  out  all  .good  tidings  from 
me  forever." 

"  But,  dear  child,"  and  the  Poor  Relation  held  her 
very  close  to  her  own  beating  heart,  "  you  know  we  are 
told  of  a  time  when  the  sea  shall  give  up  its  dead. 
Sometimes,  oh,  sometimes,  it  is  not  only  at  the  last  day  ! 


ONE  OF  THE  AUNTIES.  57 

Ships  go  down,  but  other  ships  are  on  the  waters,  and 
oh,  darling,  darling,  sailors  are  sometimes  saved  ! " 

Joy  rarely  kills.  She  rose  quickly  up,  she  pushed 
away  the  encircling  embrace,  a  faint  flush  flashed  into 
her  wan  face  and  a  light  into  her  eyes ;  she  stretched 
her  arms  towards  the  door,  she  cried  out,  wild  with  a 
new  hope,  "  Oh,  Cousin  Mary,  he  has  come  home,  he 
has  come  home  ! " 

The  door  flew  open.  There  was  a  rush  and  a  rapture 
of  meeting  like  the  bliss  of  heaven.  The  sea  had  given 
up  its  dead.  And  as  the  Poor  Relation  slipped  out,  the 
Mother  kissed  her  in  the  entry,  the  Father  shook  both 
her  hands  upon  the  stairs,  and  all  the  Young  Aunties 
hugged  her  and  Baby  alternately,  for  was  it  not  her 
happy  thought  that  had  chased  death  and  saved  the 
sister  for  her  husband  ?  And  it  was  once  more  Baby 
who  had  given  this  woman  to  this  man. 


IV. 


BABY  S   NUKSE. 

THE  Young  Mother  was  in  despair;  Baby  was  no 
light  weight,  and  her  heart  was  heavy ;  her  arms  were 
tired,  and  her  mind  was  worried ;  because  for  nearly 
two  weeks  the  Young  Mother  had  been  Baby's  only 
nurse.  Not  that  all  ministrations  for  her  child  were  not 
sweet  and  holy  as  ever ;  not  that  Baby's  little  body  was 
not  more  precious  than  fine  gold;  but  the  extra  care 
and  fatigue  added  to  her  other  duties,  the  confinement 
to  the  house,  the  weariness  of  an  imperative  work  which 
required  attention  to  be  constantly  on  the  alert  and  yet 
left  no  trace  of  its  exaction,  was  beginning  to  tell  on 
her  whole  nature,  of  which  the  flesh  was  weaker  than 
the  willing  spirit.  For  the  Young  Mother  had  had 
sad  experiences  of  helps  and  hinderances  in  the  shape  of 
Nursemaids;  she  had  come  to  consider  Baby's  life  as  a 
"brand  snatched  from  the  burning"  of  incompetency 


BABY'S  NURSK  59 

and  ignorance,  and,  from  the  utter  carelessness  and  un- 
motherliness  of  those  who  went  about  as  accomplished 
handmaids,  had  almost  been  inclined  to  credit  the  doc 
trine  of  total  depravity.  So  that  she  had  grown  cau 
tious  and  particular  in  her  selection  of  a  new  girl ;  and 
having  conceived  certain  transcendental  ideas  that  at 
the  root  of  all  service  to  humanity,  whether  from  high 
or  low,  there  must  be  Love  as  an  inspirer  and  instigator 
of  faithful  duty,  it  was  not  very  likely  she  would  very 
soon  find  requisite  fineness  in  the  Hibernian  material 
that  generally  applied  for  the  situation,  with  a  much 
stronger  interest  in  wages  and  perquisites  than  in  the 
labor  and  tenderness  which  was  expected  for  them. 

And  if  Baby  could  have  spoken  in  any  other  lan 
guage  than  a  coo  and  a  cry,  what  a  tale  the  small  crea 
ture  could  have  unfolded  of  torments  manifold  and  in 
fantile  endurance  !  of  the-  brawny  Celt  who  tossed  the 
tiny  form  in  the  air,  too  frightened  to  make  vocal  pro 
test,  and  who  trotted  her  bony  limbs  persistently,  knead 
ing  the  sensitive  flesh  with  bumps  and  bruises,  and  who 
vigorously  stuck  promiscuous  pins  through  the  soft  rai 
ment  without  the  slightest  regard  to  the  position  of  the 
points;  of  the  sly,  sleek  " prof essioner,"  who  surrepti- 


60  BAST'S  NURSE. 

tiously  administered  paregoric  that  she  might  slip  away 
to  the  pious  enjoyment  of  love-feasts  with  an  admirer 
who  waited  at  the  back  gate ;  of  the  French  bonne, 
whose  broken  chatter  banished  sleep  and  whose  sole 
idea  of  infant  needs  was  confined  to  a  perambulator  on 
the  most  crowded  streets ;  of  the  middle-aged  familiar, 
whose  "  sober  and. honest  "  character  was  attested  by  a 
private  bottle  which  proved  detrimental  to  her  charge 
to  the  extent  of  sundry  knocks  and  falls ;  and  of  the 
half-grown  assistance  who  ate  up  all  the  pap,  and  pro 
claimed  aloud  that  "  Baby  was  wisibly  swellin'  with  too 
much  stuffin." 

It  seemed  as  if  through  the  very  innocence  and  help 
lessness  of  her  Baby  the  Young  Mother  had  first  learned 
the  moral  destitution,  the  lack  of  all  sense  of  responsi 
bility  which  leavens  so  much  human  nature  with  wick 
edness  and  vice ;  it  made  her  heart-sick  sometimes  to 
feel  her  trust  in  her  fellow-creatures  so  rudely  disturbed, 
and  to  comprehend  how  much  the  lower  strata  of  peo 
ple  required  educating  and  elevating  ;  yet,  as  she  knew 
from  her  own  experience  that  men  and  women  were 
not  all  alike,  and  that  the  world  held  sweetest  and  best 
as  wrell  as  warped  and  worst,  so  she  kept  also  her  faith 


SABY'S  NURSE.  61  * 

that  even  in  the  hardest  and  basest  there  was  something, 
if  it  could  be  got  at,  by  which  each  might  be  lifted  to 
a  higher  level ;  and  as  she  pondered  these  things  often 
in  the  pure  charity  of  her  soul,  she  had  the  strong  long 
ing  of  impressible  spirits  to  instruct  and  uplift  the 
ignorant  and  the  evil ;  only  in  these  individual  cases 
her  own  environment  proved  too  strong  for  her,  and 
Baby's  life,  health,  and  comfort  were  too  dear  and  too 
important  to  afford  time  and  patience  for  experiment. 
So,  M'ith  her  instincts  sharpened  by  fresh  knowledge 
and  maternal  anxiety,  she  watched  and  waited  for 
another  servitor  in  whom  feeling  and  fidelity  should 
equal  self-interest,  and  control  the  enmity  cultivated 
towards  employers.  She  grew  too  to  understand  that 
if  her  overflowing  mother's  love  was  not  proof  against 
the  monotony  and  weariness  of  care-taking,  it  could 
hardly  be  considered  an  unmitigated  privilege  by  a 
stranger  to  have  the  constant  guardianship  of  the  most 
angelic  baby  that  ever  breathed ;  and  a  great  compas 
sion  fell  upon  her  for  those  to  whom  labor,  nnlightened, 
by  affection,  is  a  necessity  and  a  grievance. 

So  day  after  day  went  by,  and  as  one  after  another 
candidate  for  the  place  was  rejected,  the  sympathetic 


G2  BABY'S  KURSK 

Grandmothers,  who  had  hopefully  haunted  Intelligence 
Offices,  began  to  think  she  was  too  hard  to  suit,  and 
were  inclined  to  leave  her  to  her  own  devices  at  last  in 
the  search.  The  hearty  Grandfathers  told  her  she  was 
getting  thin  and  pale  with  her  impracticable  fancies, 
and  that  she  had  better  put  up  with  any  Bridget  that 
came  along,  rather  than  wear  out  her  youth  and  beauty 
in  a  hunt  for  the  undiscoverable  ;  and  even  the  Young 
Husband  gently  reproved  her  for  supposing  she  could 
ever  receive  heart-work  for  hire.  The  Young  Aunties 
fluttered  in,  turn  about,  with  sisterly  desire  to  help  and 
relieve ;  they  each  chirped  and  played  a  little  while 
with  delighted  Baby,  like  the  veriest  bright  and  happy 
children,  and  while  the  novelty  lasted  Baby  responded 
to  their  enthusiasm  and  entertainment  with  all  o-ladness 

*  o 

and  gayety  that  called  forth  an  unfailing  ingenuity  of 
pet  names.  But  when  Baby's  attention  was  no  longer 
to  be  cajoled  with  caressing  tones  or  tapping  on  the 
window-panes  ;  when  it  came  to  the  uninteresting  task 
of  holding  for  any  length  of  time  a  growing  and  un 
mindful  weight ;  when  there  were  unaccountable  wails 
to  be  soothed,  and  distracting  screams  to  be  pacified  or 
explained,  then  the  Young  Aunties  felt  that  they  had 


BAST'S  NURSE.  63 

mistaken  their  vocation,  and  looked  so  forlorn  and 
tired,  and  tried  so  hard  to  be  patient,  that  the  Young 
Mother  always  made  some  excuse  to  release  them,  and 
contrived  to  send  them  home  without  having  their  con- 
i  n'dence  entirely  shaken  in  Baby's  perfections.  But  the 
Poor  Relation  came  in  occasionally  when  she  could 
spare  time,  and  gladly  gave  the  Young  Mother  some 
little  comfortable  rest,  while  Baby  nestled  contentedly 
in  the  willing  arms  that  never  wearied  of  well-doing, 
and  who,  while  she  thus  eased  another's  burden,  for 
got  her  own  awhile,  as,  looking  into  the  tiny  face,  she 
dreamed  many  a  dream  of  the  might  have  been. 

It  was  now  one  of  those  rare  and  lovely  days,  when 
Summer,  lingering  long  through  the  Autumn,  brings 
all  that  she  can  of  light  and  heat  and  color  to  crown 
her  ensuing  departure ;  when  the  warmth  was  like 
early  June,  and  the  sky  a  July  heaven,  while  through 
all  the  air  was  a  soft  and  scarcely  perceptible  haze 
which  sheds  upon  the  October  world  that  indescribable 
pensiveness  which  is  not  sadness,  and  yet  which  tem 
pers  joy.  And  to  indulge  in  this  last  spell  of  the  sea 
son's  sweetness,  the  Young  Mother  had  brought  Baby 
to  the  open  parlor  window,  who  looked  out  in  serene 


64:  BABY'S  NURSE. 

quietude  at  opposite  trees  and  passing  sights.  There  was 
a  solemn  stillness  in  the  atmosphere,  such  as  sometimes 
comes  with  the  changing  of  the  leaves,  as  if  nature 
waited  in  sweet  expectancy  of  crimson  and  gold  for  the 
coming  silence  of  the  snows  or  the  gathering  storms  of 
winter,  and  the  whole  circumstance  of  time  and  condi 
tions  touched  and  filled  the  gentle  heart  with  yearning 
without  pain  which  lies  among  those  deep  things  of 
God  which  brings  the  divine  into  human  life.  As  she 
Bat  there,  holding  her  Baby  in  her  arms,  a  woman 
came  slowly  along  on  the  other  side  and  paused  before 
the  window — a  woman,  haggard,  jaded,  dust-stained  ; 
young  in  years  as  the  Young  Mother,  but  with  the 
flowers  of  youth  withered  on  the  pale  cheeks  and  pallid 
month.  An  image  of  desolate  dejection,  she  had  moved 
on  till  Baby's  face  caught  her  aimless  sight,  and  wild 
light  flashed  into  her  dreary  eyes ;  she  tossed  up  her 
arms  and  stood  still,  looking  over  with  such  hungry, 
wistful  gaze  as  made  her  whole  pitiful  figure  almost 
pathetic  ;  then,  as  if  involuntarily  drawn  by  an  irresis 
tible  attraction,  she  crossed  the  street  and  came  close  to 
the  house.  The  Young  Mother  shrank  just  a  little,  for 
at  the  first  moment  she  thought  the  poor  creature  was 


BABY'S  NURSE.  65 

insane ;  but  her  innate  delicacy  prevented  her  from 
showing  fear  or  aversion,  and  the  mood  of  the  day  arid 
season  was  still  upon  her ;  besides,  such  a  thin,  thin 
hand  was  laid  upon  the  sill,  and  such  a  wan,  eager 
countenance  was  lifted  to  her  own,  that  her  compas 
sion  welled  up  into  words. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  said  with  such  womanly  sympa 
thy  in  her  voice  that  it  was  like  balm  to  the  wounded. 
"  Are  you  sick,  or  in  want  ?  Can  I  help  you  ? " 

And  the  woman  gave  a  short,  gasping  sob,  and 
stretched  out  her  hands  to  her.  "  Only  let  me  kiss 
your  baby  !  "  she  cried. 

The  Young  Mother  naturally  hesitated,  but  the 
woman  went  on. 

"  Oh,  it  is  so  long  since  I  have  seen  a  baby !  Ah, 
Madam !  you  are  good,  you  are  happy  ;  you  don't  know 
sorrow ;  you  don't  know  sin ;  you  don't  know  what  it 
is  to  have  lost  your  baby  and  to  go  about  the  world 
with  empty  arms  and  despairing  heart.  Mine  is  gone — 
gone !  but  it  seems  to'me  if  a  baby's  pure  lips  could 
but  touch  mine  again,  I  would  be  more  fit  to  die !  " 

"With  an  intuition  like  an  inspiration  the  Young 
Mother  saw  that  this  being  had  wronged  her  own  worn- 


66  BABY'S  KURSK 

anhood,  and  had  suffered  through  her  motherhood ; 
that  the  sin  and  the  suffering  had  been  too  great  for 
her  to  bear,  and  that  she  was  about  to  take  her  life  to 
end  it  all.  An  exceeding  pity  flashed  the  tears  into  her 
eyes ;  the  sin  shocked  her,  but  the  evident  suffering 
and  punishment  atoned.  She  could  not  send  away, 
perhaps  to  her  death,  another  fellow-creature,  if  a  word 
or  deed  of  hers  might  stay  her;  a  woman,  poor,  wan, 
and  distressed,  who  wanted  nothing  but  a  baby's  kiss, 
was  surely  worth  saving ;  a  woman  who  grieved  for  a 
dead  baby  must  have  that  in  her  that  a  little  child  could 
lead  ;  and  perhaps  the  dear  Father  in  Heaven  had  sent 
this  fallen  sister  to  her  JBaby  for  redemption !  She 
paused  a  little  space  as  these  thoughts  filled  her  mind — 
paused,  looking  down  into  the  sad  face,  over  which 
there  gradually  rose  a  deep  flush  of  shame  as  the  silence 
was  misinterpreted  into  scorn ;  then  the  worn  figure 
turned  to  go  away  with  a  fresh  bitterness  gathering  in 
the  heart.  But  the  Young  Mother  leaned  forward,  and 
laid  a  hand  on  her  shoulder.  "  Wait !  "  she  said,  and 
rose  up  from  the  window.  She  went  to  the  door  with 
her  baby  on  her  breast,  passed  down  the  steps,  took  the 
thin  hand  in  her  own,  and  led  the  surprised  woman  into 


BABY'S  NURSE.  67 

the  house — into  the  house  and  upstairs  to  her  own 
chamber,  placed  her  in  her  own  low  chair,  and  laid  the 
Baby  in  her  arms.  Bewildered  by  this  unexpected 
kindness,  the  woman  sat  silent ;  but  when  the  soiled  bon 
net  was  gently  removed,  and  a  soft  touch  smoothed  her 
hair,  she  looked  up  into  the  sweet  face  bending  over 
her,  and  beheld  there  such  a  loving  sympathy,  that  all 
the  flood-gates  were  opened,  and  she  lifted  up  her  heart 
and  wept — wept  as  the  Young  Mother  had  never  seen 
any  one  weep  before,  with  the  speechless  agony  of  an 
overcharged  spirit,  till  at  last  the  other,  in  the  fulness 
of  compassion,  put  her  arms  about  her  and  rested  the 
drooping  head  upon  her  pure  bosom ;  and  after  a  while, 
when  there  came  a  peace  after  the  tempest  of  tears,  she 
brought  food  and  water,  that  cleansing  and  refreshing 
might  give  strength  and  comfort ;  and  when  her  strange 
guest  thanked  her  in  broken  tones,  she  said,  tenderly 
as  one  would  touch  a  bleeding  sore  : 

"  Would  you  mind  telling  me  your  story  ?  Maybe  it 
will  give  me  some  idea  of  how  I  can  help  you." 

The  woman  wrung  her  hands.  "  Ah !  you  have  been 
so  good,  so  good  !  "  she  cried.  "  Let  me  go,  let  me  go  ! 
There  is  no  help  for  such  as  I !  There  is  nothing  left, 


68  BABY'S  NURSE. 

nothing,  but  to  get  out  of  the  world !  You  have  held 
my  head  upon  your  breast,  you  have  put  your  clean 
arms  about  me,  you  have  given  your  Baby  into  mine! 
That  is  enough  !  You  might  be  sorry,  if  you  knew  all 
about  me,  that  you  ever  touched  or  spoke  to  me !  Oh, 
let  me  go  ! " 

But  the  Young  Mother  held  her,  and  pleaded  with 
her,  and  bade  her  believe  that  her  heart  was  not  a 
stone ;  that  because  of  their  mutual  womanhood  and 
motherhood  she  could  not  let  her  go  forth  again  with 
out  some  effort  to  do  her  good ;  that  they  were  alone 
there  with  God  and  each  other,  and  she  might  speak 
freely,  if  thereby  might  come  healing  to  her;  that  she 
must  not  think  of  judgment  and  condemnation,  but 
only  that  she  was  bringing  her  sorrow  to  a  sister  and  a 
friend.  Then  the  woman  wept  again,  but  tenderness 
prevailed,  and  after  a  little  she  told  all  her  miserable 
tale — told  it  with  tears  and  terrible  effort — told  it  with 
unaffected  earnestness  and  simple  pathos — told  it  as  one 
only  tells  a  heart-history  in  the  supreme  crisis  of  an 
unhappy  life. 

She  was  left  an  orphan  when  too  young  to  remember 
her  parents,  and  had  been  taken  in  charge  by  some  dis- ' 


BABY'S  NURSE.  69 

taut  relatives  who  owned  a  large  and  lucrative  farm. 
They  were  cold,  selfish,  puritanical  people,  with  too 
much  pride  to  let  one  of  their  own  blood  go  to  the 
poor-house — whose  sole  idea  of  child-training  was  filling 
the  stomach  and  clothing  the  back,  and  who  were  only 
kind  because  they  had  no  provocation  to  be  otherwise, 
for  this  child  grew  to  be  sufficiently  useful  to  earn  all 
she  received.  She  had  been  educated  at  the  country 
school,  where,  having  absorbed  all  there  was  to  teach, 
she  had  learned,  among  other  acquirements,  to  keep 
accounts  and  sew  beautifully ;  so  that  she  willingly 
acted  as  clerk  and  seamstress,  and  took  her  share  in  the 
lighter  labors  of  her  home.  She  looked  after  and  loved 
the  dumb  creatures,  with  a  friendliness  the  greater  that 
she  had  not  many  human  interests.  The  cows  and 
horses  knew  her,  the  sheep  came  at  her  call,  the  poultry 
clustered  round  her,  and  the  pigeons  lighted  on  her 
shoulders;  she  made  hay  in  the  fields,  picked  wild 
flowers  in  the  woods,  berries  by  the  brookside.  Even 
her  duties  were  light  to  her,  because  youth  and  health 
sets  a  glad  heart  singing  at  even  the  heaviest  work; 
and  altogether  she  lived  a  peaceful,  happy,  idyllic  life, 
till  womanhood  imperceptibly  dawned  on  her,  ignorant 


JO  BABY'S  NURSE. 

as  a  little  child  about  everything  except  her  own  expe 
rience,  and  scarcely  conscious  that  there  was  any  larger 
world  beyond  the  limits  of  the  farm. 

Then  came  a  day  when  one  was  thrown  from  his  horse 
in  a  roadside  near  by,  and  with  much  hurt  carried  into 
the  house,  to  be  laid  down  for  weeks  of  weariness  and 
pain  ;  he  was  left  pretty  much  to  her  care  and  attend 
ance,  for  the  elder  people  had  too  much  to  do — little  pa 
tience  with  the  delicate  requirement  of  sickness  and 
refinement.  Then  carne  the  long,  bright  summer  hours 
of  convalescence,  when,  with  books  brought  from  the 
city,  he  opened  up  a  new  world  to  the  young  girl  sitting 
at  his  feet,  with  upraised  face  all  aglow,  drinking  in  the 
poetry  of  love  and  the  poison  of  unconscious  passion. 
The  young  simplicity,  the  unworldly  trust,  the  tender 
face  were  fair  and  sweet  to  the  ennuied  man  of  the 
world,  and  to  the  fickle  sense  gave  the  new  attraction  of 
change  from  familiar  interests.  And  so,  not  being  en 
tirely  a  fiend,  without  perhaps  intending  evil,  he  won 
the  unreasoning  worship  of  an  unconventional  heart ; 
while  her  careless  guardians  noticed  nothing,  consider 
ing;  her  still  a  child,  after  the  fashion  of  those  who  do 

D  ' 

not  realize  the  growing  years  in  others,  and  have  no 


BABY'S  NURSR  71 

particular  intuition  of  affection  to  guide  them  to  the 
truth. 

At  last  the  days  and  hours  of  his  stay  were  numbered  ; 
time  and  occasion  stirred  the  man's  uncontrolled  blood. 
Cunning  words  were  spoken ;  practised  eloquence  be 
witched  ;  vows  and  promises  were  made— and  how  was 
this  inexperienced  girl  to  know  the  true  from  the  false  ? 
All  the  centred  and  innate  love,  which  had  hitherto 
found  so  little  response,  was  poured  out  like  water  from 
a  pure  fount.  And  she  was  so  innocent — so  innocent 
and  untaught,  and  felt  only  that  Love  was  sacred,  and 
conceived  of  no  evil  that  could  come  of  it ;  cared  only 
that  she  was  his — his,  body  and  soul,  and  rejoiced  that 
she  had  all  her  life  before  her  to  think  of  and  adore  him. 
Only  the  bitter  pain  of  parting  stabbed  her  happy  dream, 
and  the  days  grew  suddenly  long  and  lonely,  weighed 
upon  her  waiting  spirit,  buoyed  up  also  with  the  sure 
hope  that  he  would  come  again.  She  thought  it  was  his 
continued  absence,  her  morning  expectation  and  nightly 
disappointment,  the  yearning  wonder  of  unbroken  trust 
that  no  word  ever  came  to  her,  which  made  her  step  so 
heavy,  her  face  so  wan,  and  her  work  so  tiresome  and 
distasteful.  She  was  so  innocent — so  innocent  and  igno- 


72  BABY'S  NURSE. 

rant  that  she  comprehended  neither  her  physical  suffer 
ing,  or  even  that  she  had  sinned.  Some  interior  sense 
• — not  shame,  but  surprise  and  uneasiness — made  her 
hide  herself  from  curious  looks  and  significant  glances,' 
until,  in  her  very  innocence  and  ignorance,  feeling  as  if 
life  was  slipping  away  from  her,  and  that  she  could  not, 
must  not  die  till  he  came  to  her  again,  she  must  needs  ask 
relief  from  her  pain.  Then  was  opened  upon  her  the  tor 
rent  of  questions  and  reproach,  scorn  and  knowledge,  and 
thus  she  learned  that  she  had  sinned  and  fallen,  and  was 
no  more  tit  to  dwell  with  the  virtuous  and  right-minded. 
Confused  and  crushed,  maddened  by  jibe  and  curse,  she 
fled  away  to  the  great  city  where  he  lived,  to  search  for 
him  there,  and  find  love,  and  rest,  and  justice.  She  had 
little  money  and  no  friends,  so  she  managed  to  get  enough 
needlework  from  the  stores  to  give  her  sustenance  while 
she  walked  the  streets  week  after  week,  looking  into  the 
faces  of  the  passers-by,  always  watching,  always  search 
ing,  for  she  knew  naught  of  him  but  his  name — and  in 
a  large  metropolis  what  is  one  man  in  the  myriad  of 
rushing  throngs  ?  Up  and  down,  back  and  forth,  night 
and  day,  in  sunshine  and  in  rain,  in  frost  and  snow  she 
went,  with  her  wistful  eyes  and  sinking  soul ;  always 


BABY'S  NURSE.  ^3 

watching,  always  searching ;  keeping  hope  alive  with 
his  remembered  words;  clinging  still  to  her  faith  in 
him,  because  she  yet.  knew  so  little  of  the  world  and 
humanity.  Up  and  down,  back  and  forth,  after  nights 
of  tears  and  through  days  of  anguish,  in  cold,  and  hun 
ger,  and  bodily  torment,  till  nature  could  hold  out  no 
more,  and  she  fell  fainting  by  the  way,  to  be  picked  up 
as  a  cumberer  of  the  streets  and  sent  to  one  of  those 
hospitals  with  which  charity  sanctifies  the  worst  Baby 
lon.  Here  her  baby  was  born,  and  upon  the  darkness 
of  her  despairing  desolation  there  fell  the  solemn  and 
awful  sweetness  of  a  mother's  love,  that  mighty  and 
instinctive  gush  of  tenderness  with  which  a  woman  en-- 
velops  the  one  thing  which  is  indeed  her  very  own. 

But  she  would  not  linger,  even  for  her  child's  sake  ; 
and  with  her  infant  in  her  arms,  she  sought  work,  .and 
again  commenced  her  weary  search.  Sometimes,  when 
rare  opportunity  occurred,  she  asked  for  him  ;  but  as  she 
came  in  contact  with  none  of  his  order,  she  received  no 
information ;  and  once  again  she  haunted  the  streets, 
always  looking  for  the  one  face  she  never  saw.  But 
her  baby  comforted  her.  Like  Correggio's  Madonna, 
she  knelt  before  it  worshipping,  felt  as  if  an  angel 


74:  BABY'S  NURSE. 

dwelt  with  her ;  knew  herself  to  be  purified  and  for 
given  in  the  divine  eyes  by  the  holiness  of  her  mother 
hood,  and  her  heart  and  hope  waxed  strong  in  her  body 
weakened  by  want  and  exposure.  But  one  day,  even 
more  restless  than  usual  with  her  ever  constant  waiting, 
she  had  gone  abroad,  up  and  down,  back  and  forth, 
watching  and  searching  still,  till  she  came  upon  a  crowd 
gathered  about  a  church  door,  looking  for  a  new-made 
bride  to  come  forth  in  the  splendor  of  wealth  and  the 
glory  of  beauty  ;  the  wedding-bells  rang  gayly  through 
the  clear  air  ;  the  merry  group  chatted  and  jested  ;  the 
fine  carriages  blocked  up  the  highway.  She  stood  still, 
as  she  did  in  all  such  musterings  to  gaze  expectantly  on 
the  faces  around,  never  thinking  of  the  couple  that  the 
white-robed  priest  was  blessing  in  the  midst  of  a  stately 
company — a  poor,  sad,  deserted  mother,  in  a  faded  dress, 
with  a  quiet  baby  in  her  arms.  There  was  a  stir,  an 
opening  of  doors,  a  rush  of  music,  a  flashing  of  dia 
monds  and  gleaming  of  white  garments,  and  then  over 
the  pealing  of  the  bells,  through  the  marriage  march  of 
the  organ,  rose  a  terrible  cry  of  murdered  hope,  as  a 
stricken  woman  fell  insensible  at  the  bridegroom's  feet, 
and  the  shrinking  bride  beheld  a  pale  baby  caught  up 


BABY'S  NURSE.  75 

from  the  folds  of  her  costly  lace.  Did  he  know  her, 
after  those  many  months,  so  changed  from  the  bright 
ness  and  bloom  of  happy  and  glowing  girlhood  ?  Did 
remorse,  then  and  there,  strike  a  sharp  fang  into  his 
conscience  to  sting  with  memory  through  all  eternity  ? 
Who  knows?  He  made  no"  sign.  He  led  his  wife 
around  the  prostrate  form,  placed  her  in  her  carriage' 
with  tender  and  assuring  words,  turned  again  and  gave 
money  to  a  bystander  for  the  unfortunate  being  who 
had  so  unseasonably  swooned,  and  then  sank  back  upon 
the  satin  cushions  beside  his  bride,  and  was  whirled 
away  to  luxury  and  ease,  honor  and  high  place.  And 
the  wedding-bells  filled  the  air  with  their  glad  pealings, 
the  music  of  the  organ  rolled  out  from  the  magnificent 
church,  and  humble  hands  lifted  mother  and  babe  out 
of  the  way  of  the  gay  assembly  which  poured  out  from 
that  ceremony  which  had  proclaimed  before  the  altar 
that  God  had  joined  together  those  two !  She  also 
went  her  way  from  the  church  door,  companied  by 
misery  and  uncomforted  even  by  her  child.  She 
wandered  on,  wandered  on  day  and  night,  up  and 
down,  back  and  forth,  watching  no  longer,  searching  no 
more,  but  as  one  stunned  by  a  blow  or  walking  in  a 


76  BABY'S  NURSE. 

dream ;  her  money  gone — for  she  would  take  none  of 
his  ;  too  wretched  to  work,  ca.st  out  and  roofless  in  her 
poverty  ;  with  the  streets  and  houses,  men  and  women, 
trees  and  sky,  all  like  shadows  in  a  strange  vision  ;  even 
the  baby  at  her  breast  seemed  unreal,  like  a  phantom 
carried  in  sleep,  till  its  plaintive  moans  pierced  to  the 
,  depths  where  maternity  survived,  though  all  else  was 
slain,  and  roused  her  to  the  bitterness  and  sharp  agony 
of  reality.  She  begged  for  a  pittance  to  preserve  her 
child  ;  she  grew  frantic  at  the  cries  she  could  not  still ; 
she  clasped  it  close  to  her  bosom  to  give  it  warmth ; 
she  called  out  to  the  passers-by  to  look  at  her  baby,  to 
tell  her  what  was  the  matter  with  it — oh !  what  was  the 
matter  with  it  ?  and  what  should  she  do  ?  And  some 
stopped  and  did  look,  and  shook  their  heads,  and  went 
on,  and  some  thought  she  was  insane ;  and  she  knelt 
down  in  the  shades  of  evening  on  the  cold  stones,  and 
prayed  and  prayed  to  the  Great  Power  that  seemed  so 
far  off,  while  His  Angel  Death  stood  so  near  by ;  and 
then  she  gazed  down  at  the  little  white  face  grown 
suddenly  still,  and  went  wholly  mad. 

It  was  long,  past  midnight,  when  a  noisy  group  of 
such  women  as  only  haunt  the  streets  at  such  hours, 


BABY'S  NURSR  77 

came  laughing  and  capering  out  of  a  heated  dance 
revel,  singing  their  loose  songs,  and  chaffing  each  other 
in  that  fictitious  gayety  born  of  wine  and  excitement ; 
on  they  flung,  a  half-dozen  reckless  and  ruined 
creatures,  caring  naught  for  man  or  heaven,  with  their 
mirth  ringing  hollow  beneath  the  stars,  and  their  pea 
cock  plumes  mellowed  by  the  moonlight ;  on  they  came 
to  where  a  single  figure  stood  upon  the  pavement, 
holding  a  dead  baby  in  her  arms,  and  babbling  of 
brooks,  and  fields.  They*  paused,  at  first  wondering  at 
the  burst  of  childish  talk  that  greeted  them,  and  then 
closed  round  about  her  in  a  ring  of  sad  and  pitying 
faces. 

Perhaps  it  \vas  the  young  visage,  so  wan  and 
pathetic,  that  touched  them ;  perhaps  it  was  the  dead 
baby  that  awed  them;  perhaps  the  dethroned  mind 
that  shocked  them  ;  or  perhaps  from  their  own  experi 
ence  they  divined  something  of  her  unhappy  story. 
Their  levity  died  away,  their  quips  and  quirks  were 
silenced,  their  bacchanal  song  was  strangled  by  a  sigh, 
their  hearts  and  eyes  filled  up,  and  all  that  came  out 
from  them  was  pure,  womanly  in  look,  in  voice,  in  deed. 
They  took  the  small,  cold  form  reverently  out  of  the 


78  BABY'S  NURSE. 

straining  arms;  with  tender  words  and  gentle  caress 
they  soothed  the  perturbed  spirit,  and  lovingly  and 
kindly  as  sisters  led  her  to  their  own  abiding  place,  and 
ministered  to  her  in  turn  during  a  long  and  life-threat 
ening  illness,  with  the  care,  the  patience,  the  generosity 
of  closest  kinship  ;  and  while  she  lay  alike  unconscious 
of  good  offices  and  personal  grief,  took  her  little  infant 
and  placed  it  solemnly,  with  church  service  of  chant 
and  scripture,  in  its  grave  within  a  suburban  cemetery, 
shedding  tears  over  the  "  earHi  to  earth "  that  might 
have  washed  white  many  a  sin  and  relieved  more  than 
one  memory. 

While  she  was  sick  and  weak  they  were  all  forbear 
ance  and  goodness  towards  her,  but  with  the  faint 
bloom  of  returning  strength  their  former  indifference 
and  carelessness  came  back,  and  they  spake  many 
a  bitter  truth,  in  their  flippant  way,  of  the  world  and 
men  that  subverted  any  dawning  hope  of  help  to  be 
gathered  therefrom ;  and  they  shared  with  her  freely 
and  unsparingly,  without  counting  the  cost  of  their  ill- 
gained  gold.  She  had  no  other  friends ;  in  the  whole 
wide  world  she  had  not  one  to  go  to  for  succor,  for 
counsel,  for  upholding ;  none  cared  for  her  save  only 


BABY'S  NURSE.  79 

these  in  a  sort  of  fellowship  of  good-will ;  she  was  reck 
less  of  herself,  ruined  as  they  were,  with  hell-fire  in  the 
past  and  an  outlook  of  despair  in  tbe  future.  So  she 
was  fain  to  stay  with  them,  to  become  one  of  them,  to 
strive  to  drown  in  wild  orgies  the  gnawing  recollec 
tions,  to  smother  beneath  the  life  of  the  senses  the  un 
ceasing  struggle  of  a  tortured  soul.  For  a  whole  year 
she  drifted  through  the  slough  of  shameful  circum 
stance,  endeavoring  in  a  mad  whirl  of  excitement  to 
harden  her  nature  to  her  state,  in  the  abandonment  of 
license  to  find  oblivion  or  distraction.  But  in  vain — 
in  vain  !  The  nights  avenged  the  days  ;  her  dead  baby 
came  to  her  in  dreams,  lay  in  her  bosom  as  she 
slept,  touched  her  with  its  tiny  hands,  filled  her 
empty  arms  ;  the  ghost  of  her  slaughtered  love  rose  up 
stainless  beside  her  darker  deeds;  even  the  dumb 
creatures  she  had  known  called  to  her  from  afar,  and 
drew  anear  and  looked  at  her  with  wistful  eyes  as  if 
they  grieved  for  her  lost  condition ;  through  the 
loudest  revelry  she  heard  her  child's  moaning  wail, 
and  could  not  shut  out  with  wine  or  wassail  from  her 
inwrard  sight  the  last  look  of  its  dying  eyes.  There 
was  no  escaping  from  the  witness  within  her;  she 


80  BABY'S  NURSE. 

fought  the  incarnate  spirit  with  every  carnal  weapon, 
but  the  still,  small  voice  could  not  be  silenced  ;  and  at 
last  there  grew  upon  her  such  a  horror  of  her  course, 
such  a  loathing  of  herself,  such  a  longing  for  emanci 
pation  from  evil  doings  and  disgraceful  ties,  that  she 
sank  into  a  brooding  melancholy  that,  without  speech, 
irritated  and  reproached  her  companions.  And  then 
these  women,  who  had  rescued  her  in  madness,  nursed 
her  in  illness,  ministered  to  her  in  want,  buried  her 
baby — scoffed  at  her  sadness,  satirized  her  scruples, 
jeered  and  jested  at  the  signs  of  lingering  principle. 
Gratitude  gave  her  endurance  ;  she  could  never,  never 
forget  that  they  had  once  been  kind  and  tender  and 
true.  So  one  day  she  called  them  all  together,  told 
them  in  touching  words  that  she  must  go  out  from 
them,  must  belong  to  them  no  more;  parted  among 
them  all  she  had  gained  in  that  unhappy  year  of  dress 
and  trinkets,  embraced  them  all  over  and  over,  and 
went  forth  in  her  old  faded  robe  to  seek  for  work  and 
peace.  But  work  was  not  to  be  found ;  at  the  old 
places  where  they  knew  and  pitied  her  once,  they  asked 
for  her  record  now,  and  would  have  none  of  her ;  and 
she  discovered  too  that  some  change  in  the  times  had 


BABY'S  NURSE.  81 

made  the  field  scanty  and  the  laborers  many;  so  she 
passed  through  a  hard  probation  of  starvation  and  dis 
tress  that  assailed  her  with  temptation,  and  tried  her 
through  and  through,  soul  and  body.  She  fancied  that 
her  own  self-scorn  was  reflected  in  every  one's  eyes  and 
echoed  in  every  voice,  till  she  was  almost  filled  with  a 
dread  of  human  beings,  yet  in  her  terrible  loneliness 
craved  something  to  solace  her  yearning  solitude.  And 
then  she  bethought  her  of  the  farm- creatures  she  had 
loved;  they  were  not  human,  and  cared  not  if  the 
caressing  hand  belonged  to  sinner  or  to  saint,  and  per 
haps  they  had  not  forgotten  her ;  for  though  it  seemed 
so  long  ago  to  her,  it  had  really  been  but  a  little  while 
in  the  calendar  of  men  since  she  had  been  with  them. 
So  she  had  gone  all  that  long  distance  just  to  look 
again  upon  the  fields  where  her  childhood  had  been 
spent,  and  to  seek  a  little  grain  of  comfort  from,  the 
animals  she  had  fed  and  nurtured.  It  was  such  a  little 
hope  left  out  of  all  that  life  had  once  had  for  her !  and 
it  cost  her  some  last  sacrifice  and  left  her  penniless. 
She  had  been  to  the  familiar  meadows,  where  she  had 
made  hay  and  picked  clover  in  the  past  where  the 

peace  of  God  which  passeth  understanding  rested  in 
4* 


82  BABY'S  NURSE. 

the  sunshine  and  stillness,  and  soothed  her  mind  and 
nerves  ;  but  the  dogs  had  barked  at  her,  the  lambs  fled 
away  from  her,  the  cows  looked  at  her  with  uncon 
scious  eyes,  and  a  strange  farm-hand  had  driven  her  off 
as  an  intruding  tramp.  The  dumb  creatures  had  forgot 
ten  her ;  she  w-as  so  changed  by  her  sin  and  her  sorrow  ; 
she  knew  all  of  them,  but  she  had  become  only  a  stran 
ger,  even  to  the  dun  Alderney  she  had  reared  up  from 
birth. 

And  now  she  was  going  back  to  the  great  city  to  find 
her  baby's  grave,  and  die  there — death  was  the  only 
merciful  thing  in  this  world  for  such  as  she  !  Only,  as 
she  had  passed  on  her  footsore  way  through  this  sweet 
town,  she  had  suddenly  seen  the  Young  Mother  and 
her  Baby  sitting  at  the  window ;  all  her  heart  leaped 
up  at  the  sight — it  was  the  first  baby  she  had  seen  since 
her  own  was  taken  from  her.  Some  invisible  power 
seemed  to  draw  her  across  the  street ;  she  thought  if 
she  could  only  touch  the  little  hands,  press  the  little 
face,  it  would  be  like  a  blessing  to  her !  That  to  kiss 
once  more  a  baby's  pure  lips  would  be  like  the  baptism 
of  Christ,  though  her  sins  were  'scarlet  as  blood !  And 
now,  more  than  that  had  come  to  her — more  than  had 


BABTS  NURSE.  83 

ever  come  to  her  in  her  life  before — a  good  woman  had 
put  her  arms  about  her,  and  had  not  spurned  her,  be 
cause  she  too  had  been  a  mother  !  But  oh  !  let  her  go 
now — let  her  go — it  was  more  than  she  could  bear — let 
her  go  to  her  own  baby ! 

The  Young  Mother  had  listened  with  tears  running 
down  her  cheeks ;  in  her  heart  of  hearts  she  had  felt 
that  every  word  was  truth,  and  never  before  in  her 
love-sheltered  existence  had  she  realized  the  wickedness 
and  wretchedness  of  a  world  outside  her  own.  As  she 
listened,  she  had  thought — thought  with  reason  contend 
ing  with  that  charity  which  overcometh  all  things — 
should  she  keep  her,  this  waif  from  the  under-world  of 
vice,  this  woman  torn  with  suffering,  strife,  and  repent 
ance  ?  Should  she  hold  her  fast  as  a  precious  soul  to 
be  saved  from  wrath  to  come  ?  or  should  she  send  her 
forth  again  from  a  haven  of  refuge  and  safety  to  fresh 
hardship,  contumely,  and  suicide,  and  so  have  before 
her  conscience  an  accusing  figure  forever  and  forever  ? 
Could  she  bring  her  young  sisters  into  the  atmosphere 
of  one  so  tainted  ?  Could  she  trust  her  child  with  one 
who  had  been  dragged  through  the  mud  of  the  earth  ? 


84:  BAB  F'/S  NURSE. 

Was  sin  contagious  from  the  body  ?  Ah !  her  little 
babe  had  lain  in  those  stained  arms,  had  smiled  in  that 
face,  and  had  taken  no  harm.  Was  it  infections  from 
the  spirit?  Surely  this  woman's  soul  was  purified  by 
penitence  I  Only  speech  and  action  could  convey  evil ; 
could  she  not  guard  against  that?  Ought  she  not  to 
give  her  a  trial  ?  Would  it  not  be  time  enough  to  turn 
her  away  when  her  influence  proved  corrupt?  Should 
she  help  her  ?  Should  she  save  her  ?  Dared  she,  who 
was  happy,  and  had  her  own  Baby  safe,  thrust  out 
another,  who  was  most  miserable,  and  whose  baby  was 
dead  ?  Whose  baby  was  dead  !  Her  tears  welled  out — 
the  charity  that  overcometh  had  won  the  day.  She  was 
no  longer  to  her  a  sinner,  an  outcast,  a  Magdalen,  but 
only  a  mother  whose  baby  was  dead. 

And  when  the  other  said  more  quietly,  "  Ton  know 
all  now ;  you  can  only  think  badly  of  me  like  all  the 
rest ! "  she  took  the  thin  hands  in  hers,  and  answered, 
"  I  think  you  have  been  more  sinned  against  than 
sinning,  and  that  the  dear  Father  in  Heaven  has 
brought  you  to  me.  Will  you  stay  with  me,  and  take 
care  of  my  Baby?  I  have  great  need  of  some 
one  who  will  put  love  into  this  work,  and  maybe 


BABY'S  NURSE.  85 

after  a  while  my  little  one  will  comfort  yon  for  your 
own." 

Surprised  by  this  unexpected  offer,  she,  to  whom 
kindness  was  so  unusual,  looked  up  as  one  astounded. 
"  You  will  take  me? "  she  said  slowly  ;  "you  will  keep 
me  ?  You  will  give  me  your  Baby  ? " 

"  I  will  give  you  more,"  replied  the  Young  Mother. 
"  I  will  give  you  Love  and  a  Great  Trust.  And  you 
can  help  or  harm  me  much ;  for  if  you  are  loyal  and 
faithful  to  me  and  yourself,  you  will  give  me  a  larger 
and  surer  confidence  in  all  humanity ;  but  if  you  do 
not  deal  righteously  and  truly  with  me,  I  shall  never 
dare  to  listen  to  the  voice  of  my  own  soul  again !  You 
see  it  is  an  experiment  for  both." 

The  woman  bowed  down  her  head,  and  there  was 
silence  between  them  for  a  minute.  Then  she  lifted 
her  eyes  with  a  new  light  in  them :  "  I  could  not  have 
dreamed  there  was  anything  left  for  me  in  this  world 
to  do ! "  she  answered.  "  I  will  live,  since  you  do  not 
think  me  unworthy  of  such  a  trust,  if  only  to  try  and 
prove  to  you  that  there  is  something  true  in  me  still ! 
I  will  stay  with  you.  I  will  be  faithful." 

And  as  a  sign  and  token  of  their  compact,  the  Young 


86  BABY'S  NURSE. 

Mother  lifted  Baby  from  its  crib,  and  laid  her  on  the 
other's  breast.  "  Oh,  my  baby !  my  own  baby  !  "  she 
broke  out,  "  I  must  see  my  baby's  grave  ! " 

"  Not  now,  dear,"  said  the  Young  Mother.  "  I  can 
not  let  you  leave  me  yet.  Soriie  day  we  will  go  there 
together ! " 

The  whole  family,  as  they  came  in  and  out,  passed 
judgment  on  the  New  Nurse.  When  the  Young  Father 
found  her  installed  in  his  home,  he  privately  remarked 
to  his  wife  that  she  looked  rather  delicate  for  such  a 
weight  as  Baby  was  getting  to  be;  and  the  Young 
Mother  put  her  arms  about  him,  and  replied :  "  Dear 
est  love,  she  has  had  hard  times ;  we  will  make  her 
stronger  among  us;  and  just  see  how  Baby  takes  to 
her !  "  and  she  never  told  him  any  more  than  that,  she 
who  kept  nothing  else  hid  from  him  all  through  her 
life.  Grandfather  Number  Two  said  he  "  was  glad  that 
Baby  had  got  any  kind  of  a  nurse  at  last,  so  that  he 
could  hear  something  else  talked  about !  "  But  Grand 
father  Number  One  studied  the  pale  face  more  than 
once  as  he  played  with  Baby ;  and  one  day,  when  the 
Young  Mother  went  with  him  out  of  the  room,  he  put 


EAST'S  NURSE.  87 

his  arms  round  her  and  bade  "  God  bless  her  for  a  good 
lass !  For  there  has  been  a  sore  life  in  there,"  he  said, 
"  and  she  is  finding  peace  with  my  dear  girl ! "  "  Oh, 
papa !  "  she  whispered,  "  how  do  you  know  ? "  "  I  know 
nothing  of  your  Nurse,"  he  answered,  "  but  I  can  tell 
a  good  work  when  I  see  it !  "  "  Qh,  papa,  papa  !  "  she 
murmured  ;  "  it  isn't  me ;  it  is  all  the  Baby !  don't  you 
see  that  it  is  Baby  who  is  healing  and  helping  her  2  " 
and  Grandfather  Number  One  laid  her  face  against  his 
for  a  moment,  and  went  quietly  forth.  The  Grand 
mothers  were  inclined  to  be  decidedly  critical  at  first, 
in  consequence  of  ineffectual  visits  to  the  Intelligence 
Offices,  and  from  disapproval  of  taking  in  a  servant 
without  a  reference ;  but  they  could  not  help  but  notice 
her  patience  and  loving  care  of  her  charge,  and  when 
they  beheld  her  sewing  were  completely  won  over,  and 
went  about  proclaiming  her  a  treasure.  And  the 
Young  Aunties  wondered  that  she  shrank  from  them  a 
little,  and  was  so  shy  when  they  were  so  gay  and  gra 
cious  with  her ;  but  Baby  loved  her — that  was  evident 
enough — and  so  they  were  determined  to  be  good  to 
her;  and  soon  after  the  faded  dress  had  been  taken 
away  by  the  Young  Mother,  and  destroyed  entirely 


88  BABY'S  NUBSK 

from  being  a  reminder  of  the  past,  Baby's  Nurse  was 
many  times  overcome  with  thoughtful  little  gifts  of 
collars  and  cuffs,  aprons  and  ribbons,  and  generous 
overflowings  of  young  and  gushing  hearts.  While  from 
the  Poor  Relation,  whose  instinctive  sympathy  divined 
that  here  was  one  who  sorrowed  greatly,  there  came 
sometimes  such  gentle  words  of  strength,  such  uphold 
ing  of  the  sinking  spirit,  that  the  tried  soul  clung  to  her 
saving  grace  as  though  this  other  woman  had  indeed 
been  a  holy  priest  ordained  of  God.  And  the  Fat 
Nurse,  dropping  in  one  day  with  her  basket  and  um 
brella,  watched  her  keenly  with  her  twinkling  eyes,  and 
said  afterwards  to  the  Young  Mother,  "You've  did 
well  by  your  Baby,  mum ;  for  she's  got  the  Mother- 
heart,  and  that's  the  best  recommendation  any  nurse 
can  have ! " 

One  day,  when  the  following  Spring  had  made  all 
the  earth  green,  the  Young  Mother  and  the  New  Nurse 
went  away  to  the  great  city,  passing  through  its  noise 
and  bustle  to  another  city  on  its  quiet  borders,  whose 
people  were  very  still  in  their  last  homes — the  silent 
City  of  the  Dead  ;  and  among  the  lowly  graves  of  the 
poor  found  a  little  mound  grown  over  with  waving 


BABY'S  NURSE.  89 

grass  and  golden  buttercups ;  and  what  befell  there  of 
remembrance  and  remorse,  of  weeping  and  consolation, 
gratitude  and  goodness,  the-  two  women  locked  up  in 
their  hearts,  and  never  spoke  of  again  ;  but,  before  they 
came  away,  the  lonely  grave  was  covered  over  with 
myrtle,  and  set  round  with  roses,  and  when  next  they 
saw  it  there  was  a  small  white  stone  at  the  head,  on 
which  was  only  cut,  "  In  memory  of  a  Baby,"  for  this 
child  had  died  without  a  name. 

And  the  New  Nurse  lived  all  her  long  years  with 
them,  and  kept  her  promise,  and  was  faithful,  to  the 
end.  She  came  to  be  like  one  of  their  own  family,  and 
was  respected  and  trusted,  loved  and  looked  up  to.  It 
was  she  who  took  all  their  new-born  childen  in  her 
arms,  and  tenderly  laid  out  all  their  dead  ;  she  dressed 
the  young  for  their  bridals,  and  closed  the  eyes  of  the 
old ;  she  rejoiced  in  their  joy,  sorrowed  with  their 
sorrow,  shared  their  burdens  ;  and  the  next  generation 
never  thought  but  that  she  had  always  been  one  of 
them.  A  weird  sort  of  wisdom  from  much  introspec 
tion  fell  on  her,  and  many  an  earnest  word  of  hers  took 
root  for  salvation  in  restless  or  wayward  hearts ;  fruits 


90  BAST'S  NURSE. 

meet  for  repentance  marked  all  her  unassuming  way ; 
her  eyes  shone  with  a  beautiful  peace ;  and  she  who 
had  been  cast  down  and  desolate,  made  gladness  for 
the  angels  in  heaven. 

Many  years  afterwards,  when  Baby  had  grown  to  be 
a  young  lady,  when  the  Young  Father  had  become 
a  rich  and  renowned  citizen  and  the  Young  Mother 
a  wise  and  well-beloved  matron,  much  courted  in  the 
social  life  of  the  great  city  where  she  visited,  she  met 
the  man  who  had  wrought  this  ruin,  prosperous  arid 
debonair,  esteemed  and  honored,  the  cynosure  of  fash 
ion,  head  and  front  of  his  admiring  circle  still.  It 
struck  him  with  strange  novelty  and  curious  wonder 
that  this  one  woman,  so  sought  after  and  distinguished, 
should  meet  him  always  with  cold  eyes,  or  turn  from 
him  with  averted  glances.  It  made  him  uneasy,  this 
Epicurean  who  shrank  from  a  crumpled  rose-leaf,  and 
that  any  one  human  being  should  disdain  or  discounte 
nance  him  was  a  skeleton  at  his  life-long  feast  that 
must  speedily  be  banished.  So,  watching  one  night  at 
a  great  assembly  till  he  had  seen  her  a  little  apart,  with 
the  graceful  effrontery  of  a  practised  man  of  the  world, 


BABY'S  NURSE.  91 

he  ventured  to  question  her  of  the  why  and  thus.  She 
turned  her  sweet,  fair  face  full  upon  him  all  kindling 
with  long-kept  indignation  and  contempt,  and  spoke 
out  from  her  sincere  heart  the  stinging  answer:  "  For 
twenty  years  I  have  sheltered  in  my  house  the  woman 
whose  life  you  ruined,  whose  youth  you  destroyed ;  and 
I  therefore  deem  you  unworthy  even  of  her  scorn! 
Seducer  and  profligate!  You  are  loathsome  as  a  lie! 
and  I  forbid  you  ever  to  approach  or  speak  to  me 
again ! "  He  winced  and  writhed  under  her  righteous 
anger  and  plain-spoken  words,  that  like  a  sharp  knife 
had  cut  into  his  vanity  and  his  memory ;  he  slipped 
away  from  her  speechless  and  cowed ;  and  whether  or 
not  his  conscience  ever  reproached  him  with  remorse 
ful  remembrances,  he  never  forgot  the  crumpled  rose- 
leaf  in  liis  career — the  expressed  odium  of  one  honest 
spirit. 

And  never  in  all  the  days  of  her  life  did  this  true 
woman  breathe  to  any  one  else,  Father  or  Mother, 
husband,  sister  or  child,  that  other  woman's  secret  of 
a  Baby's  Grave. 


V. 


ON  her  bod  she  lay  day  after  day,  year  in  and  year 
out,  white  and  helpless,  with  large  eyes  melancholy  with 
the  sadness  of  long  suffering.  Only  the  unwearied 
hands  rested  not,  and  the  active  brain  never  ceased  from 
thinking.  What  dreams  of  health  and  happiness, 
what  disappointed  hopes,  what  unspoken  repinings, 
what  agonies  of  despair,  what  rebellious  reflections, 
what  wrestlings  with  destiny,  what  strivings  for  pa 
tience,  had  been  worked  off  upon  the  exquisite  embroid 
ery  that  grew  under  her  delicate  fingers  !  for  always 
before  her  was  a  snowy,  diaphanous  muslin,  with  its  fine 
tracery  of  leaves  and  flowers,  vines  and  fruit,  and  into 
every  branch  and  every  blossom  she  wove  her  life,  and 
by  the  perfectly  wrought  designs  she  won  the  cost  of 
her  living.  One  day  it  would  be  a  lovely  wedding- 
dress  that  was  spread  over  her  humble  couch,  and  out 


THE  VH1PPLED  SISTER.  93 

of  her  tender  blessings  on  the  bride,  her  sweet  fancies 
of  a  bliss  she  could  never  know,  there  would  be  evolved 
a  wonderful  result  of  interwoven  beauty,  with  a  poetic 
meaning  in  it  all  that  perhaps  the  wearer  would  never 
guess  ;  and  only  the  worker,  touching  gently  her  un di 
vined  creation,  would  know  that  each  design  was  signi 
ficant  of  a  good  wish — the  lilies  for  purity,  the  roses  for 
love,  the  wheat  for  plenty,  the  heart's-ease  for  content. 
Or  it  would  be  an  infant's  robe  to  be  made  rich  and  rare 
with  unrivalled  adornment,  and  little  would  the  pleased 
mother  suspect  the  yearnings  over  the  untried  future 
and  the  visions  of  its  coming  life  that  were  wrought 
through  and  through  her  child's  dainty  garment ;  how 
upon  each  thread-born  wreath  there  hung  prayers  for 
tho .  coming  years,  and  how  every  festoon  had  felt  the 
prophetic  outlook  of  a  solitary  spirit  to  whom  a  new 
born  babe  seemed  like  an  angel  fresh  from  God,  to  be 
once  more,  when  earthly  career  was  over,  a  bearer  of 
palm-branches  in  the  universal  heaven.  Or,  once  in  a 
while,  they  would  bring  her  a  spotless  shroud  to  fashion 
for  the  dead,  and  would  find  unexpectedly  laid  upon  it 
some  mystic  emblem  to  grace  the  grave,  an  amaranth  or 
a  winged  globe,  to  symbolize  to  hearts  that  looked 


94  THE  CRIPPLED  SISTER. 

thereon  the  sweet  everlasting  Beyond.  For  never  nnto 
others  went  forth  the  bitterness  of  tortured  flesh  or  pris 
oned  existence  ;  the  white  roses  that  she  raised  were  the 
flowers  of  silence ;  the  womanhood  that  was  in  her 
naturally  taught  her  repression  ;  the  unselfishness  of  her 
spirit  held  her  back  from  saddening  others ;  and  her 
Thought  of  God  and  want  of  outer  experience  gave  her 
a  trust  and  faith  that  could  overcome  at  last  her  weari 
ness,  her  isolation,  her  doubts.  But  there  were  times — 
oh  !  there  were  times  when  the  frail  body  went  through 
the  very  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death ;  when  the 
pain,  the  impotence,  the  unquiet  of  a  separated  lot 
would  stir  the  tried  soul  with  inward  storms  of  revolt 
and  longing ;  when  the  unuttered  heart-cries  were  as 
piercing  and  tempestuous  in  unseen  ears  as  those  of  a 
strong  man  in  his  agony.  But  Love  was  about  her  al 
ways  ;  and,  as  unto  those  to  whom  little  is  given,  spon 
taneous  gratitude  is  great  for  that  little — the  suffusing 
srlow  of  thankfulness  for  returning  ease,  the  throb  of 

O  O  J 

sincere  joy  at  a  new  attention,  the  bursting  of  sunlight 
into  her  room,  the  sight  of  the  calm,  blue  sky,  the  sound 
of  a  tender  voice,  would  still  the  tumult,  and  through 
the  shining  point  of  her  needle  her  discontent  would 


THE  CRIPPLED  SISTER.  95 

flow  into  lines  of  beauty,  and  peace  would  return  with 
the  needed  pursuit,  and  by  counting  over  her  pleasures 
she  epnquered  her  pain.  For  much  and  many  minis 
tered  to  her.  The  Aged  Father  and  Mother  added  to 
her  wisdom,  poured  out  for  her  the  hoary  experiences 
of  accumulated  years,  caressed  her  with  their  withered 
hands,  shone  upon  her  with  their  wrinkled  faces,  where 
affection  beamed  brighter  than  their  eyes ;  and  she,  who 
was  the  Poor  Relation  in  other  homes,  but  the  Light  of 
the  Household  here,  she  never  tired  in  her  tendence ; 
she  who,  without  a  word,  knew  all  that  passed  within 
the  kindred  mind,  whose  sweet  sympathy  soothed,  whose 
genial  cheerfulness  uplifted,  whose  arms  were  around 
her  in  the  night-watches  of  suffering,  whose  days  never 
brought  forgetfulness  of  a  single  loving  care,  and  who 
was  at  once  Sister,  Friend,  and  Physician  of  soul  and 
body.  Then  there  were  those  abroad  who  came  to  her 
in  kindness,  often  bringing  gifts  of  thoughtfulness  and 
overflowing  compassion.  The  Grandfathers  would 
come,  thumping  their  gold-headed  canes  upon  the  floor 
and  her  nerves,  with  hearty  salutations,  and  the  very 
breath  of  fresh  outer  air  on  their  portly  persons  and 
ruddy  faces ;  and  the  chirpy  Grandmothers,  with  their 


96  THE  CRIPPLED  SISTER. 

gossipy  talk  of  the  younger  generation,  and  something 
nice  to  tempt  the  delicate  taste,  made  from  an  old  fam 
ily  receipt  that  none  possessed  but  themselves.  And 
the  Young  Aunties,  by  twos  and  threes — bright  and  beau 
tiful  with  youth,  full  of  lightness  and '  Jnirth,  gleeful 
with  girlhood's  quips  and  quirks,  and  always  ready  to 
relate  all  that  was  going  on  in  their  happy  world — the 
last  party,  the  latest  fashion,  the  newest  books,  blushing 
confidences,  tremulous  hopes,  sometimes  the  sentimental 
woes  and  imaginary  ills ;  sure  always  of  a  cordial  lis 
tener  and  faithful  adviser,  and  rarely  thinking  that  their 
gayety  and  grace  might  cause  a  pang  to  one  to  whom 
youth  and  beauty  and  the  world  beyond  her  chamber- 
walls  were  evermore  denied.  Then  her  bird  sang  for 
her  such  a  delicious  song  that  it  awakened  marvellous 
harmonies  within,  and  was  sometimes  echoed  by  strains 
unheard  of  mortal  ears ;  for  that  one  voice  concentrated 
for  her  the  chorussed  music  of  the  groves  ;  the  liquid 
notes  linked  themselves  to  the  harmony  of  the  spheres, 
and  an  awe-inspiring  refrain  of  cherubim  and  seraphim 
seemed  to  float  to  her  from  the  far-off  Everlasting! 
And  when  the  little  golden  songster  tucked  his  head 
under  his  wing  at  night,  her  fancy  went  out  all  over  the 


THE  CRIPPLED  SISTER.  97 

earth,  and  saw  in  all  climes  birds  of  all  kinds  and  plu 
mage  nestling  into  slumber,  and  her  eyes  filled  with 
yearning  tears  over  these  feathered  innocents,  which 
were  thus  her  only  link  with  God's  dumb  creatures. 
And  as  she  gazed  out  of  her  window  at  the  small  patch 
of  sky  she  could  see  therefrom,  the  floating  clouds  wore 
varied  shapes  for  her — shapes  beautiful  or  fantastic,  mak 
ing  always  a  changing  panorama  of  which  she  never  tired. 
Sometimes  it  was  a  dark  dragon,  with  overlapping  scales 
and  forked  tongue  ;  anon  a  soft,  gray  vision  of  clustered 
towers  and  spires ;  and  again  weird  and  witching  faces 
would  form  and  dissolve  against  the  serene  blue ;  some 
times  a  white  angel  witli  outspread  wings  would  hover 
over  her,  and  sometimes  the  sunset  glories  would  make 
a  gorgeous  garden  of  heavenly  blossoms  before  her  eyes ; 
but  oftenest  a  snowy  dove  would  brood  in  the  great  im 
mensity,  and  then  she  felt  as  if  the  Spirit  filled  her 
heart  and  mind,  and  lifted  her  in  aspiration  till  she  was 
no  longer  a  crippled  and  pain-stricken  body,  but  only  a 
chosen  soul  taken  behind  the  veil  of  flesh  and  sense  to 
behold  the  secret  mysteries  of  being.  Thus  in  her  quiet 
room,  in  the  silence  and  solitude  of  a  separated  life,  she 
was  neither  desolate,  nor  despairing,  nor  deprived  of  the 


98  THE  CRIPPLED  SISTER. 

solace  which  the  good  God  gives  to  all  who  have  hearts  to 
feel.  But,  nevertheless,  one  thing  troubled  her  much : 
others  did  so  much  for  her  ;  some  one,  it  seemed  to  her, 
was  always  bringing  her  help  or  pleasure ;  but  there 
was  so  little  she  could  do  for  any  one  !  Her  Father  in 
Heaven  was  loving  and  bountiful  in  His  mercies  to  her, 
but  there  was  nothing  she  could  do  for  Him !  Praise 
Him,  like  her  bird,  she  sometimes  did  from  the  very 
depths  of  her  nature ;  but  she  longed,  almost  infinitely 
at  times,  to  reach  out  towards  His  children  on  the  earth, 
and  repay  to  them  her  debt  to  Him.  In  her  own  home 
the  proceeds  of  her  daily  work  assisted  in  maintaining 
the  life  that  was  there,  and  secured  her  from  becoming 
a  burden  upon  much-taxed  and  slender  resources.  But 
still  this  was  so  little,  so  little,  and  she  knew  not  how  to 
do  more,  her  world  was  so  narrow  and  she  came  in  con 
tact  with  so  few.  Her  heart  was  full  as  a  fountain 
of  its  waters,  but  she  had  no  direction  in  which  to 
pour  out  the  overflow ;  the  sacred  hour  of  oppor 
tunity  had  not  arrived — the  right  chord  had  not  yet 
been  struck. 

One  day  they  sent  the  Baby  to  see  her — the  bright- 
eyed,  rosy-mouthed  Baby,  with  the  little  golden  rings  of 


THE  CRIPPLED  SISTER.  99 

hair  fringing  the  dainty  cap,  and  the  tiny  dimpled  hand 
stretching  out  to  her  from  beneath  the  embroidered  cape 
of  the  long  cloak.  It  was  almost  the  only  Baby  she 
remembered  ever  to  have  known,  for  the  young  Aun 
ties  were  not  born  in  her  neighborhood,  and  it  was  so 
long  since  there  had  been  a  baby  in  the  family.  In 
stantly  a  new  tenderness  and  vague  yearning  sprang  up 
in  her  soul ;  perhaps  the  woman's  regret  that  never, 
never  would  the  blessing  of  Motherhood  be  hers,  min 
gled  with  the  other  expressions  on  her  pale  face ; 
perhaps  too  there  was  something  more  which  told  that 
only  alone  could  the  lonely  spirit  grapple  with  and 
overcome  these  unusual  emotions,  for  Baby's  Nurse, 
wise  from  her  own  experiences,  quietly  took  off  Baby's 
wraps,  laid  the  soft  white-robed  creature  in  her  arms, 
and  went  swiftly  from  the  room.  She  remained  away 
but  a  little  while,  not  long  enough  to  tire  too  much  the 
fragile  arms ;  but  in  that  time  the  Crippled  Sister  had 
shed  drops  and  drops  of  shining  tears  over  the  placid 
Baby,  who  looked  up  at  her  with  strangely  wise  eyes,  not 
frightened  at  her  unfamiliar  face,  but  as  if  also  ponder 
ing  the  secret  things  of  the  heart,  for  babies  sometimes 
seem  so  freshly  come  from  Paradise,  that  either  mem- 


100  THE  CRIPPLED  SISTER. 

ories  or  meditation  over  unseen  marvels  appear  to  hold 
them  in  temporary  stillness  and  contemplation,  and 
to  give  a  sense  of  speechless  knowledge  past  our  under 
standing  who  have  come  so  far  away  from  the  wonder- 
world  which  is  the  source  of  life  and  light. 

"  O  Baby,  Baby !  "  she  said,  in  her  very  heart  of  hearts, 
"  you  are  a  miracle  !  for  you  are  a  soul — one  of  God's 
souls  born  into  this  world — this  world  where  souls  strug 
gle  and  suffer !  How  I  wish — oh,  how  I  wish  that  I, 
even  I,  crippled  and  useless,  could  stand  between  you 
and  all  the  pain  of  the  future  !  Sweet,  tender  blossom, 
dear  innocent  birdie,  why  cannot  you  always  be  a 
Baby?  why  must  you  grow  up  to  be  crowned  with 
thorns,  to  be  crucified,  as  every  soul  must  be,  before  you 
go  back  to  that  other  life !  Blessings  may  come  to  you — 
blessings  will  come  to  you,  for  you  are  the  Baby  of  love 
and  hope ;  but  oh,  you  new-made  darling !  you  have 
come  into  a  hard  world,  for  you  have  been  born  a 
woman ! " 

For  it  suddenly  seemed  to  the  Crippled  Sister  as  if 
she  had  never  before  so  keenly  felt  or  fancied  the  strife, 
the  poverty,  the  crime  of  this  earth,  as  when  she  looked 
upon  this  untried,  sinless  being,  and  there  dawned  upon 


THE  CRIPPLED  SISTER.  101 

her  a  sudden  terrible  dream  of  the  might  be  of  any 
human  existence;  all  the  agony  and  rebellion  of  her 
own  years  rolled  up,  and  momentarily  smote  down  her 
long  patience,  but  out  of  it  arose  a  longing  almost  di 
vine,  to  shelter,  to  shield,  not  this  one  only,  but  all 
young  and  untainted  lives  from  the  wrath  and  evil  to 
come.  With  that  singular  outlook  born  of  solitude  and 
imagination,  she  beheld  countless  homes  where  babies 
bloomed — babies,  all  to  be  men  and  women  some  day — 
and  she  shuddered  as  she  thought  what  men  and  women 
wore  in  the  world,  and  how  even  the  sweetest  and 
purest  knew  sorrow  and  needed  strength.  And  she — 
she  who  would  fain  have  suffered,  in  her  great  hour  of 
yearning  over  a  baby  and  her  race,  that  the  many  might 
be  made  white  from  their  sins  again — what  could  she 
do?  What  could  she  do?  It  seemed  to  her  as  if  she 
was  the  smallest,  most  useless,  most  impotent  creation 
in  the  Universe,  lying  there  growing  almost  weary' 
under  the  weight  of  a  single  mortal  Baby.  But  the 
child  was  God's  angel  and  brought  His  message  !  She 
always  said  afterwards,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  Baby 
she  never  would  have  gained  the  idea,  for  as  Baby  lay 
quite  still  looking  solemnly  up  at  her,  thoughts  and 


102  THE  CRIPPLED  SISTEH. 

plans  flashed  in  upon  her  like  electric  sparks  struck 
from  the  innocent  presence. 

In  a  few  minutes  it  had  all  come  into  her  mind,  clear 
and  vivid  as  a  reading  of  God's  word  ;  the  Baby's  little 
hand  had  touched  the  waiting  chord ;  through  the 
Baby's  pure  eyes  she  had  seen  her  opportunity;  the 
Baby  had  given  her  at  last  a  work  to  do  for  her  Father 
in  Heaven  and  her  race  on  earth.  And  as  if  this  Baby 
had  divined  that  its  mission  was  ended,  and  as  if  it  had 
just  dawned  upon  its  infantile  sense  that  the  glowing 
face  bending  over  its  own  was  that  of  neither  Mother 
nor  Nurse,  it  set  up  a  very  human  cry,  and  the  latter 
came  in,  put  on  the  long  white  cloak,  held  up  the  pout 
ing  mouth  to  be  kissed  by  pale,  quivering  lips,  and 
carried  her  charge  away,  pondering  in  her  own  heart 
what  manner  of  emotions  the  Child  had  awakened  in 
the  Crippled  Sister's  spirit. 

A  few  days  afterwards  the  Light  of  the  Household 
went  forth  into  the  poor  places  of  the  neighborhood, 
and  brought  in,  one  by  one,  shrinking  children,  with 
shabby  garments  and  shy  glances ;  little  girls  mi- 
gathered  into  schools,  untaught  of  ignorant  parents  who 
were  slaves  of  labor,  to  whom  was  preached  no  Gospel 


THE  CRIPPLED  SISTEX.  103 

of  salvation  from  idleness,  weakness,  or  vice.  These, 
allured  in  unwillingly  at  first,  hard  enough  for  a  time 
to  keep  together,  came  at  last  into  this  quiet  chamber 
as  to  a  holy  shrine,  sat  earnestly  at  the  feet  of  a  pale, 
patient  teacher,  and  learned  the  ways  of  truth  and 
.right,  took  from  her  untiring  zeal  a  shield  of  work  or 
wisdom  to  defend  them  in  days  to  come  from  depend 
ence,  debasement,  and  ruin.  Day  by  day — for  a  few 
minutes  only  sometimes,  sometimes  for  hours,  accord 
ing  to  her  fluctuating  strength — she  had  them  with  her, 
pouring  out  the  garnered  stores  of  unforgotten  reading 
in  simple  language,  and  opening  up  new  worlds  for 
unformed  minds;  peopling  for  them  with  her  sweet 
fancy  the  woods,  the  streams,  the  air,  with  as  beauti 
ful  spiritings  as  the  old  fantastic  shapes  of  pagan  lore  ; 
showing  them  what  she  saw  in  the  sky ;  telling  them 
what  her  bird  sang  to  her,  breathing  into  their  recep- 
ti  ve  souls  the  peace  and  good- will  that  angels  hymn  to 
mankind,  clothing  common  facts  in  such  attractive 
forms  that  knowledge  grew  to  be  better  than  choice 
gold,  and  making  labor  so  sacred  and  honorable  in  their 
eyes,  that  to  do  seemed  well -as  .to  be  wise.  It  was  slow 
work,  slow  and  anxious  and  earnest,  taking  more 


104:  THE  CRIPPLED  SISTER. 

patience  than  the  bearing  of  pain,  calling  upon  the 
deepest  founts  of  love  for  all  the  charity  that  suffereth 
long  and  hopeth  all  things ;  for  ignorance,  habit,  and 
inherited  traits  are  formidable  fortresses  to  assail,  and 
can  only  be  overcome  by  continuance  in  well-doing. 
Clumsy  fingers  and  unopened  minds  were  equally  diffi 
cult  to  guide  and  to  train ;  but  when  the  heart  was 
once  won  the  will  grew  strong,  and  out  of  her  untiring 
effort  came  evidence  of  fine  fruition  at  lust. 

In  the  poor  homes  where  they  belonged  the  mothers 
listened  with  a  sort  of  awe  to  the  accounts  of  this  pale 
lady,  lying  always  on  her  couch,  covered  with  the  white, 
fleecy  folds  of  her  delicate  work,  and  giving  out  to 
little  rapt  listeners  thoughts  that  would  abide  with  them 
all  their  lives ;  and  the  first  result  of  this  feeling  was 
clean  faces  and  smooth  pinafores.  Then  the  children's 
talk  brought  new  ideas  to  the  laboring  fathers  that 
brightened  the  weary  toil,  and  something  gentler 
seemed  to  steal  into  the  hard  and  bare  existences,  and 
so  the  sweet  influences  radiated  farther  than  she  could 
feel,  and  her  work  was  wider  than  she  knew. 

After  a  while  Christmas  was  drawing  near,  and  one 
day  there  was  an  interesting  assemblage  of  these  small 


TEE  CRIPPLED  SISTER.  105 

scholars  in  a  room  where  one  of  them  lived,  whose 
mother  was  a  washerwoman,  and  upon  tubs  and 
buckets  they  were  seated  in  a  circle,  with  their  childish 
countenances  expressive  of  anxious  meditation.  The 
weather  was  cold,  and  the  devices  to  secure  warmth, 
mostly  consisting  of  capes  and  shawls  belonging  to 
grown-up  people  and  much  too  large  for  their  present 
wearers,  gave  them  generally  the  appearance  of  ani 
mated  bundles  with  a  face  at  one  end,  and  the  tips  of 
very  worn  shoes — sometimes  of  bare  toes,  peeping  out 
of  the  other  ;  and  the  subject  of  their  meeting  and  con 
sultation  was,  How  to  Get  a  Christmas  Present  for  the 
Crippled  Sister,  and  What  It  Should  Be. 

No  thought  of  expediency  or  custom  entered  these 
youthful  and  inexperienced  minds  ;  it  was  a  matter  of 
pure  love  and  gratitude,  or  as  one  of  them  put  it, 
"  She's  bin  mighty  good  and  lovin'  to  us,  and  we  want  to 
do  suthin'  to  make  her  feel  we  know  it !  "  The  leader 
of  the  meeting  was  a  grave  little  damsel  with  quiet  eyes, 
who  seemed  to  take  a  natural  precedence.  "Now, 
Aimer  Mariar,"  she  said  to  a  buzzing  wee  thing  beside 
her,  "  there  ain't  no  use  in  guessin'  and  talkin'  so 

much ;  let's  count  up ;  each  girl  say  how  much  she  cari 
5* 


106  THE  CRIPPLED  SISTER. 

give  ;  we've  got  to  know  that  first  of  all.  You  begin, 
Anner  Mariar;  how  much  are  you  goin'  to  have  by 
Christinas  ? " 

"  Well,"  chirped  out  this  small  being  from  the  folds 
of  a  large  red  muffler,  "  I'm  a  goin'  to  settle  down  and 
take  a  place  to  mind  Mrs.  M'Goffin's  baby  next  door ; 
it's  an  awful  big  baby,  and  drefful  cross,  but  I  guess  I 
kin  do  it,  and  get  my  share  for  the  teacher !  I'm  to 
have  twenty-five  cents  a  week,  but  I  have  to  give  Mam 
most  of  it,  cos'  I  can't  work  out,  and  go  to  the  Lady's, 
and  help  her  too !  but  I  kin  save  five  cents  a  week  off 
anyhow !  It  ain't  much,  but  it's  better'n  nothin',  and 
Lord  knows  I'll  earn  it  with  that  baby  ! " 

"  There  now,  Anner  Mariar,  that'll  do ;  let  somebody 
else  say  something,  will  you  ?  "  interposed  the  youthful 
President.  "  Jane  O'Connor,  what  do  you  think  you'll 
have  ? " 

The  O'Connor's  child  wound  herself  very  tight  in  a 
big  plaid  shawl.  "  I'm  goin'  to  do  chores  in  the  mornin' 
for  a  board in'-house,  carry  up  the  coals  and  sich,  and 
they're  to  pay  me  ten  cents  a  day.  I  spec'  the  old  man 
will  take  a  good  deal  of  it  for  gin,  but  I  mean  to  screw 
a  quarter  of  it  out  anyhow,  if  I  have  to  fight  for  it !  " 


THE  VBIPPLED  SISTER.  107 

"  So  far  so  good,"  observed  the  approving  Chief. 
"  Nettie  Blane,  it's  your  turn !  "  Nettie  looked  down 
abashed  by  the  superior  facilities  of  her  companions, 
and  spoke  in  a  rather  low  and  tremulous  tone.  "  I 
ain't  likely  to  have  a  chance  to  earn  any  money ;  but 
Uncle  Jim — he's  a  sailor,  you  know — he  brought  me  two 
lovely  shells  home  from  his  last  voyage;  they're  all 
smooth  and  pink  inside,  such  a  beautiful  color,  and 
have  got  scolloped  edges  just  like  lace,  and  I  thought 
maybe  I  could  sell  them  !  "  Hereupon  ensued  an  ani 
mated  discussion  as  to  the  probability  of  the  nrnrket 
value  of  these  treasures,  and  much  advice  as  to  places 
where  there  would  be  most  likelihood  of  disposing  of 
them.  Little  Nettie's  cheeks  flushed  as  pink  as  the 
shells  themselves  with  excitement  over  the  subject,  and 
her  youthful  soul  experienced  the  first  pain  and  joy  of 
sacrifice. 

Then  the  question  of  resources  was  put  to  each  of 
the  others  in  turn,  and  each  made  some  hopeful  reply. 
One  had  an  uncle  who  always  gave  her  something  for 
Christmas,  and  she  thought  she  could  coax  him  to  pre 
sent  it  a  few  days  beforehand  ;  and  one  had  a  tin  bank 
into  which  she  had  dropped  all  the  few  pennies  she  had 


108  THE  CRIPPLED  SISTER. 

received  for  two  or  three  years,  and  she"  was  willing  to 
contribute  all  of  them ;  and  so  on  through  the  whole 
group,  till  a  rough  estimate  was  made  by  the  grave  little 
President,  after  much  struggling  with  the  arithmetical 
problem,  and  the  financial  committee  rose  up  from  the 
tubs  and  buckets  in  quite  tumultuous  delight  at  the 
amount  of  the  uncollected  sum.  They  circled  round 
for  some  minutes  in  rather  noisy  glee,  till  the  small 
Chief  called  them  unceremoniously  to  order  by  stand 
ing  on  a  tub  and  exclaiming  : 

"  Look  here  !  We  have  found  out  How  To  Do  It,  but 
we  haven't  made  up  our  minds  yet  What  It  Is  To  Be!  " 
There  was  an  immediate  subsidence  at  this  suggestion, 
and  the  important  deliberation  was  resumed.  This  was 
•a  very  serious  question  indeed,  as  it  was  no  longer  a 
matter  requiring  individual  responsibility,  but  a  general 
decision  and  consent,  and  the  tone  of  the  discussion  be 
came  much  more  argumentative.  "  What  It  Should 
.Be  "  was  one  of  those  puzzles  requiring  experience  in 
intuition  to  decide,  and  wild  and  extravagant  were 
some  of  the  first  propositions  by  the  more  thoughtless 
and  those  uninitiated  into  the  cost  of  things.  "I  tell 
you  what,"  said  Anna  Maria,  "  there's  nothin'  like  a 


THE  CRIPPLED  SISTER.  109 

big  cake !  there  was  one  stayed  in  the  baker's  window 
ever  so  long  till  last  Christmas,  and  it  was  all  over  shin- 
in'  white  icin',  and  it  had  a  jailer  and  a  red  and  a 
blue  rose  right  on  top;  and  oh,  my!  it  was  just  splendid. 
I  used  to  stand  and  stand  and  stand  and  look  at  it  till 
my  toes  were  a-most  froze,  just  a-thinkin'  what  an  aw 
ful  lot  of  nice  eatin'  there  was  in  it !  Now,  /  say  let  It 
be  a  cake,  for  it's  so  good  and  so  Christmassy  !" 

"Anner  Marier,"  remarked  the  small  President, 
"  you're  j  ust  crazy  !  Have  you  any  idear  what  that  cake 
cost?  Besides,  the  Lady  gets  enough  to  eat,  and  she 
isn't  the  sort  as  is  always  thinking  of  her  stomach." 

Anna  Maria  was  quenched  for  a  moment,  but  re 
tained  a  sense  of  injury  at  being  thus  unceremoniously 
snubbed,  which  only  waited  for  an  opportunity  to  be 
vented. 

Directly  the  O'Connor's  child  observed  that  she 
thought  it  would  be  nice  to  give  the  Lady  a  whole  lot 

of  fine  thread  for  her  work,  because  she  used  so  much 

i 
all  the  time. 

"  Thread !  "  contemptuously  retorted  Anna  Maria, 
"who  ever  heard  tell  of  thread  for  a  Christmas 
present ! " 


110  THE  CRIPPLED  SISTER. 

"  It's  a  heap  more  useful  nor  a  cake !  "  replied  the 
other. 

"  Pooh ! "  said  Anna  Maria,  "  people  never  gets  use 
ful  things  at  Christmas,  only  something  pretty  to  look 
at,  and  good  things  to  eat." 

"  Well,  anyhow,  I  guess  she  wouldn't  care  about  a 
cake  ! " 

"  I  bet  she  would  then !  " 

"  She  wouldn't ! " 

"She  would!" 

"  Hold  yer  tongue  1 "  "I  won't !  "  «  Then  take  that ! " 
and  the  O'Connors  child  gave  Anna  Maria  a  quick 
slap  on  the  cheek.  Anna  Maria,  not  having  been 
trained  in  the  Scripture  doctrine  of  turning  the  other 
cheek  when  she  was  smitten  once,  was  about  to  return 
the  blow,  when  the  little  Chief,  with  her  face  all  aglow, 
stepped  in  between  the  excited  parties. 

"  Ain't  you  ashamed  of  yourselves,  after  all  the  bless 
ed  things  the  Lady's  bin  teaching  us  !  Didn't  she  read 
us  out  of  the  Good  Book  one  day,  '  Little  children,  love 
one  another  ! '  and  talk  to  us  about  it  till  we  couldn't 
most  of  us  a-help  crying  ?  And  you  two  ain't  no  better 
nor  you  had  never  heard  it  at  all !  Do  you  think  she'd 


THE  CRIPPLED  SISTER.  HI 

care  about  a  cake,  or  anything  at  all,  if  she  knew  you'd 
bin  fighting  over  it  ?  Now,  yon  just  kiss  and  make  up, 
and  don't  have  no  more  such  sass  ! "  And  Anna  Maria 
and  the  O'Connor's  child  were  quite  overcome,  and  fell 
upon  each  other's  necks  and  kissed,  and  then  sat  lovingly 
down  together  on  the  same  tub. 

Then,  after  this,  strange  and  various  articles  were 
proposed,  to  which  many  objections  were  raised,  princi 
pally  by  the  little  President,  who  seemed  to  think  her 
most  important  duty  was  to  keep  the  intended  expendi 
ture  within  the  limits  of  the  probable  amount,  for 
which  purpose  she  was  obliged  to  do  a  good  many  sums 
out  loud.  The  puzzle  was  growing  deeper,  and  the 
likelihood  of  a  decision  seemed  farther  off  than  ever, 
when  Nettie  Blane  said,  in  her  soft  voice :  "  I  know 
what  the  Lady  loves  more  than  anything  else,  and  that's 
flowers !  Why,  just  here  awhile  ago,  before  it  got  so 
cold,  I  found  a  bunch  of  wild  posies  growing  alongside 
the  road  as  I  was  going  to  her  house ;  they  were  just 
common  things,  but  I  picked  them  and  took  them  to 
her,  and  you  just  ought  to  have  seen  her  over  them  ! 
Her  face  lit  all  up,  she  was  so  pleased,  and  do  you  know 
that  for  a  minute  she  looked  like  she  never  was  sick  at 


112  THE  CRIPPLED  SISTER. 

all ;  and  she  kind  of  petted  them  with  her  fingers,  and 
thanked  me  so  nice  that  I  never  was  so  glad  of  doing 
anything  in  my  life !  Now,  don't  you  all  think  she'd 
rather  have  flowers — real  nice  flowers,  I  mean,  like  you 
see  young  gentlemen  taking  to  their  sweethearts ;  not 
anything  we  could  find,  but  something  we'd  have  to 
buy  ? " 

The  unconscious  poetry  in  this  little  girl's  soul  had 
vaguely  divined  that  material  gifts  were  not  delicate 
enough  for  this  lonely  spirit  who  communed  with  things 
unseen.  Nettie's  earnestness  enforced  her  idea,  which 
seemed  to  impress  the  fancies  of  her  companions,  till 
one  exclaimed  : 

"  But  flowers  die  so  soon,  and  then  she  would  never 
have  nothin'  to  keep  to  make  her  feel  that  we'd  bin 
thinkin'  of  her  !  " 

An  anxious  shade  fell  over  Nettie  Blane's  face,  that 
however  instantly  brightened  with  a  new  thought. 

"  Oh,  yes  she  would,"  she  said,  "  because  she'd 
always  remember !  Don't  you  know,  somehow,  if  you 
once  get  a  thing,  you've  always  got  it,  even  if  you  don't 
see  it !  If  I  sell  my  shells,  it  don't  much  matter  really, 
because  whenever  I  think  about  them  they'll  always  be 


THE  CRIPPLED  SISTER.  113 

in  my  heart,  and  I'll  always  know  that  Uncle  Jim  he 
brought  them  to  me  over  the  sea !  " 

The  wise  intuitions  of  the  little  philosopher  struck 
the  poetic  chord  in  the  small  surrounding  humans. 
Some  one  murmured,  "  Things  ought  to  be  awful 
pretty  to  be  remembered  always ! "  and  the  general 
consent  seemed  to  settle  without  dispute  that  a  basket 
of  flowers  would  be  the  very  sweetest  thing  in  the  world 
to  give. 

"  And  I  know  of  a  man  who  keeps  a  hot-house  just 
out  of  town,"  said  the  young  President,  "  and  he  looks 
good-humored  and  kind,  so  maybe  he'll  give  us  some 
thing  real  nice  for  what  we'll  have  to  pay ! "  And 
soon  after  the  meeting  dispersed,  each  one  going  her 
way,  with  the  sense  of  quite  an  important  aim  embel 
lishing  the  future. 

The  day  before  Christmas,  as  the  big,  burly  and  rosy 
owner  of  the  conservatory  just  out  of  town  was  sort 
ing  his  choicest  blooms  for  a  large  wedding  which  was 
to  take  place  in  the  evening,  with  a  deftness  hardly  to 
have  been  expected  from  the  size  of  his  fingers,  the 
door  of  the  hot-house  suddenly  opened,  and  a  squadron 


114:  THE  CRIPPLED  SISTER. 

of  a  dozen  or  more  small  girls,  headed  by  a  g»-ave-eyed 
little  damsel,  entered  in  solemn  procession. 

"Bless  my  soul!"  said  the  Gentle  Giant,  turning 
his  bluff,  bright  face  towards  them,"  what  do  you 
young  ones  want  ?  " 

For  an  instant  they  had  stood  qnite  still,  looking 
about  them  in  wonder  and  delight ;  for  the  whole  place 
was  so  filled  with  rare  and  lovely  blossoms  that  its 
atmosphere,  color,  and  profusion  was  like  a  concentra 
tion  of  the  tropics.  Anna  Maria  nudged  the  O'Con 
nor's  child  to  look  at  yellow  oranges  ripening  amid 
their  own  foliage,  and  murmured,  "  Oh,  my !  they're 
really  growin'  there,  they  are  !  "  And  Nettie  Blane's 
tender  gaze  lingered  on  the  white  camellias  and  clus 
tered  azaleas,  as  if  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  had 
realized  a  fulfilled  sense  of  perfect  beauty.  But  the 
Young  Leader,  deeply  impressed  with  the  importance 
of  her  errand,  had  never  taken  her  eyes  off  the  hearty 
countenance  of  the  Big  Gardener,  and  was  not  to  be 
diverted  from  its  practical  pursuit  by  any  allurements 
of  tint  or  odor,  and  in  her  quiet  voice  replied  to  his  sur 
prised  salutation  : 

"  If  you  please,  sir,  we  want  to  buy  a  basket  of  flowers." 


THE  CRIPPLED   SISTER.  115 

The  man  dropped  the  two  or  three  buds  he  held  in 
his  hand,  turned  entirely  around,  and  gave  one  steady 
look  down  the  whole  line ;  he  saw  at  once  that  they 
were  not  likely  to  want  flowers  for  themselves,  and  im 
agined  that  one  or  two  had  been  sent  on  a  message,  and 
that  the  rest  had  accompanied  these. 

"  You — want — to — buy  " — he  said  slowly. 

"  Yes,  sir,  a  basket  of  flowers,  if  you  please. 

"  Who  for  ?  and  why  are  there  so  many  of  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,  I'll  tell  you.  Yon  see,  sir,  there's  a 
dear,  kind  Lady,  and  she's  a  cripple,  and  never  gets  off 
a  low  kind  of  bed  she  lays  on,  and  works  all  the  time 
the  most  beautiful  broidering  flowers  you  ever  seen. 
And  she  teaches  ns ;  we  go  there  to  her  room,  and  she 
tells  ns — oh  !  she  tells  us  such  sweet  things  about  every 
thing,  and  she  tries  to  make  us  good,  and  we're  learn 
ing  ever  so  much  from  her.  So  we  thought  we'd  like 
to  give  her  a  Christmas  present,  and  we've  all  saved  up 
till  we  think  we've  got  enough;  and  because  she  never 
can  go  out  to  see  anything  a-growing,  and  just  loves 
flowers  like  they  were  alive,  we  made  up  our  minds  to 
take  her  some ;  because  we  all  give  something  towards 
it  we  all  came  together  about  it ;  and  if  you  please,  sir, 


116  THE  CRIPPLED  SISTER, 

we'd  like  as  nice  a  basketful  as  you  can  make  up  for 
our  money." 

The  rosy  face  bloomed  out  bright  as  one  of  his  own 
blossoms ;  the  round  eyes  grew  wonderfully  soft  and 
moist,  as  the  big,  burly  man  stooped  and  kissed  the 
small  speaker,  and  said,  with  just  a  touch  of  huskiness 
in  his  voice : 

"  "Well,  you're  a  blessed  little  party  !  You  just  go 
round,  all  of  you,  and  pick  out  what  you'd  like  to  have, 
and  I'll  fix  them  up  for  you  !  "  There  was  an  immedi 
ate  stir  in  the  young  procession,  an  ^evident  delight  in 
this  permission,  and  an  intention  to  put  it  instantly 
into  practice,  when  the  Small  Leader  called  out,  "  You 
keep  still  there,  will  you  ?  Iv'e  got  something  else  to 
say ! " 

Curiosity  restored  order,  and  she  again  addressed  the 
gardener. 

"  Ain't  those  grand  flowers  very  dear  ?  You  see,  sir, 
we  don't  want  anything  we  can't  pay  for  all  right ; 
because,  you  know,  if  you  were  to  go  and  put  in  out  of 
goodness  something  that  ought  to  cost  more  than  we've 
got  the  money  for,  it  would  be  you  a-giving,  not  us ! 
Besides,  if  it  was  too  fine,  the  Lady  would  be  worried 


THE  CRIPPLED  SfSTER.  117 

with  thinking  where  we'd  got  enough  to  do^it  with  !  So 
if  you  will  please  to  give  us  something  as  nice  as  you 
can  for  just  what  we  can  pay  for  it,  we  will  be  so  much 
obliged.  We've  got  this  much  money  ;  please  to  count 
it,  sir,  and  see  if  it  will  do !  "  And  she  handed  him  a 
rather  battered  tin  match-box  containing  the  accumu 
lated  contributions  in  small  coins,  as  they  had  been 
gradually  brought  in  as  they  were  gained. 

And  as  the  Gentle  Giant  took  the  minute  box  in  his 
big  hands  he  had  to  cough  to  keep  down  an  uncomfort 
able  choking  in  his  throat,  and  which  became  even 
more  troublesome  when  Nettie  Blane  stepped  up  to 
him,  and  said  :  "  If  we  can  afford  it,  sir,  could  you  put 
in  a  Lily  ?  because  it  seems  as  if  she  oiight  to  have 
white  flowers,  and  I  know  she  loves  lilies  because  she 
always  sets  so  many  of  them  in  her  work ;  and  I  heard 
her  say  one  day — like  to  herself — that  Solomon  in  all 
his  glory  was  not  arrayed  like  one  of  these !  " 

The  Big  Gardener  by  this  time  was  too  much  touched 
to  keep  quite  calm.  "•  Here,"  he  said  to  the  Little 
Leader,  "  you  count  out  this  money,  and  tell  rne  how 
much  it  is,  and  I'll  do  the  best  I  can  for  it ! "  As  the 
grave  voice  enumerated  the  amount,  piece  by  piece, 


118  THE  CRIPPLED  SISTER. 

the  rest  looked  and  listened  with  an  eager  pride  in  the 
limited  sum  which  was  pathetic  to  behold,  as  every 
penny  of  it  had  been  earned  by  some  sort  of  sacrifice. 
And  when  the  Big  Gardener  took  a  basket  and  went 
round  his  hot-house  collecting  here  and  there  his  sim 
plest  blooms,  all  these  keen  eyes  watched  him  in  un 
broken  silence,  and  not  one  of  them  stirred  a  gaze  from 
his  fingers  as  he  laid  in  the  moss,  propped  a  superb, 
stainless  lily  in  the  centre,  and  arranged  round  it  with 
exquisite  taste,  violets  and  heart's-ease,  and  delicate,  pure 
blossoms  ;  in  breathless  quiet  they  noted  every  flower 
that  was  woven  into  its  place,  little  thinking  that  these 
commoner  plants  which  they  were  used  to  see  in 
summer  were  almost  as  costly  as  foreign  growths  in 
winter ;  and  it  was  not  till  the  whole  was  finished  that 
they  broke  out  into  exclamations  of  satisfaction. 

"  This  must  be  a  mighty  good  woman  to  make  you 
love  her  so!"  said  the  man  as  he  handed  over  the 
basket  to  the  careful  hold  of  the  Little  Leader. 

"  Good  ! "  answered  Nettie  Blane,  "  she's  a-most  an 
angel ;  it  seems  like  she  ought  never  to  do  anything 
but  stand  up  close  to  the  Throne  with  just  such  lilies 
in  her  hand  !  " 


THE  CRIPPLED  SI1STE&.  119 

For  Nettie's  inmost  heart  was  stirred  by  the  flowers 
and  the  occasion. 

The  Big  Gardener  looked  at  her  a  second  as  if  he 
thought  she  might  have  been  a  stray  cherub  herself. 

"  That's  all  your  own  gift,"  he  said,. pointing  to  the 
lily-cro wned  basket ;  "  but  would  you  mind  taking  her 
a  little  present  from  me  too  ? " 

There  was  a  pause  in  general  fear  lest  his  superior 
resources  might  eclipse  the  glory  of  their  own  offering ; 
the  Gentle  Giant  smiled  and  answered  the  unexpressed 
thought. 

"  It  shall  only  be  one  flower,"  he  said ;  and  as  a 
single  flower  in  their  inexperienced  eyes  could  not 
possibly  compare  with  a  basketful,  a  happy  assent 
was  immediately  given. 

He  went  round  among  his  plants  to  where  bloomed 
one  magnificent  blossom,  the  only  one  of  its  kind  in 
the  greenhouse.  For  months  and  months  he  had  nur 
tured  this  particular  growth  with  the  utmost  care, 
training  it  towards  the  production  of  this  one  flower 
with  the  solicitude  of  a  father  for  a  child,  knowing  that 
its  rarity  and  splendor  would  bring  an  immense  price; 
but  now,  with  a  glowing  face,  he  broke  it  unhesitatingly 


120  THE  CRIPPLED  SISTER. 

from  the  stalk,  and  without  a  sensation  of  regret,  placed 
it  in  Nettie  Blaue's  hand.  "  Oh,  thank  yon  ! "  said 
Nettie's  glad  voice,  "  I  will  give  it  to  her  with  your 
compliments."  And  then  the  Big  Gardener  kissed 
every  one  of  them  as  they  passed  out,  and  stood  at  his 
hot-house  door,  and  watched  the  little  procession  as  it 
wound  out -of  sight  with  the  Little  Leader  at  the  head, 
carrying  the  Basket  of  Flowers. 

The  Crippled  Sister  was  lying  on  her  low  conch, 
working  a  butterfly  on  a  white  shroud— for  the  dead 
know  not  Christmas,  and  wait  for  no  one's  holiday; 
and  as  the  emblem  of  immortality  spread  its  wings 
beneath  her  glancing  needle,  she  crooned  over  to  her 
self  the  song  that  the  angels  sang  to  the  wondering 
shepherds  so  many  centuries  ago ;  and  as  the  "  Good 
will  towards  men  "  dropped  from  her  lips,  her  chamber 
door  opened  and  the  Light  of  The  Household  entered 
in,  folloAved  by  the  procession  of  children  bearing 
their  precious  burden.  The  Light  of  The  Household 
had  tears  in  her  eyes  and  a  'quiver  about  her  mouth  as 
she  said,  "  Dear  Sister,  the  little  ones  have  brought  you 
a  Christinas  present ! "  for  she  had  met  them  at  the 


THE  CRIPPLED  SISTER. 

hall-door,  and  divined  all  the  sweet  story  from  their 
few  words  of  explanation. 

Then  the  Little  Leader  stepped  forward  with  the 
basket  of  flowers,  and  as  the  Crippled  Sister  took  it  in 
her  hands  the  shroud  fell  aside,  but  even  in  the  living 
delight  of  the  Present,  the  butterfly  of  Immortality 
rested  on  her  bosom  below  the  shining  flower  of  the 
Annunciation ;  and  as  the  children  stood  round  the 
bed  in  their  poor  clothes,  and  some  of  their  hands  hard 
ened  by  toil,  it  dawned  upon  her  how  they  had  worked 
and  sacrificed  to  bring  her  this  token  of  love,  and  her 
heart  was  almost  too  full  for  words,  and  tears  of  purest, 
saddest  joy  dropped  like  rain  upon  the  violets  and 
heart's-ease  that  represented  to  her  the  tender  gratitude 
of  those  innocent  souls.  "  It  is  so  beautiful !  so  beauti 
ful?"  she  murmured,  and  they  fairly  thrilled  to  think 
she  meant  their  happy  gift ;  but  Nettie  Blane  alone 
felt  that  it  was  of  their  feelings  she  spoke,  and  as  if  to 
crown  the  season's  offering  of  good-will,  she  laid  the 
single  gorgeous  blossom  beside  their  own  present,  say 
ing  : 

"  The  Big  Garderner  sent  you  this  too,  ma'am,  with 
his  compliments,  because  he  said  you  '  must  be  a  mighty 


122  THE  CRIPPLED  SISTER. 

good  woman  to  make  us  love  you  so  much.' "  Then 
the  rich  color  flooded  the  Crippled  Sister's  cheek  and 
brow,  and  her  eyes  shone,  and  she  seemed  to  grow 
transfigured  before  their  very  sight  into  angelic  youth 
and  beauty,  and  her  voice  was  almost  like  a  song  as  she 
cried  out,  "  O  my  darlings  !  you  have  made  me  so  rich 
to-day,  for  you  have  brought  me  not  only  these  lovely, 
lovely  flowers,  but  something  I  thought  never  could 
come  into  my  lonely  life — the  free,  blessed  Love  of 
Children ! "  And  she  kissed  them  all  over  and  over, 
and  when  they  lingered  as  though  loth  to  leave  her,  her 
spirit  seemed  inspired  to  speak  to  them  from  the  text 
of  the  flowers ;  through  the  Big  Gardener's  rare  blos 
som  she  seemed  to  bring  before  them  the  wonders,  the 
glories,  the  very  atmosphere  of  the  East ;  they  saw  the 
palms  of  India  and  the  gardens  of  Damascus,  the  roses 
of  Persia,  and  the  Cedars  of  Lebanon ;  and  out  of  the 
simple  blooms  of  their  own  sweet  gift,  she  wove  tender 
stories  and  lessons  that  would  cling  in  their  memories 
to  heart' s-ease  and  violets  as  long  as  they  lived  ;  and  she 
told  them  at  last  that  the  great  old  artists,  when  they 
painted  their  pictures  of  the  Angel  bringing  Good  News 
to  Mary,  the  Mother  of  Christ,  always  placed  just  such 


THE  CRIPPLED  SISTER.  123 

another  white  Lily  in  his  hand ;  and  that  it  was  sign 
and  token  of  message  and  promise.  And  somehow,  as 
she  talked,  these  poor,  little,  narrow  lives  felt  them 
selves  grow  nearer  to  the  angels;  and  when,  after  they 
had  all  joined  together  in  singing  for  her  the  Christinas 
hymn,  they  went  out  to  their  humble  homes  with  their 
hearts  upraised  in  "  Glory  to  God  on  high,"  because 
they  felt,  in  their  vague  way,  that  in  that  one  room  at 
least  there  was  "  peace  on  earth  and  good-will  towards 
men." 

And  the  Light  of  the  Household  leaned  over  the 
Crippled  Sister  with  a  half  sob  in  her  tone  as  she  said, 
"  This  is  a  happy  Christmas,  Dear ! "  "  Ah !  yes,"  an 
swered  she.  "  And  it  all  came  from  the  precious  Baby ; 
for  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  Baby,  I  should  never  have 
thought  of  these  other  children !  Kneel  down,  sister, 
and  say  a  Christmas  prayer  for  the  dear  Children  and 
the  darling  Baby  !  " 


VI. 


BABY  S   PAKTY. 

BABY  was  going  into  short  frocks ;  and  the  Young 
Aunties  had  all  assembled  in  Baby's  home  in  order  to 
assist  the  Young  Mother  in  cutting  down  the  long  robes 
which  had  hitherto  covered  Baby's  restless  little  feet. 
They  were  a  gay  and  happy  party  as  they  sat  around 
the  pile  of  dainty  white  garments,  one  ripping,  another 
cutting,  and  the  rest  sewing  with  nimble  and  willing 
fingers,  while  Baby  lay  in  the  midst,  and  greatly  inter 
rupted  the  work  and  merry  chat ;  for  first  one  Young 
Auntie  would  stop  to  coo  back  to  the  chirping  crows, 
and  then  a  general  flow  of  baby  talk  would  suspend  the 
flashing  thimbles;  then  another  Young  Auntie,  having 
to  do  a  little  necessary  measuring  of  Baby's  tiny  person, 
must  needs  dandle  the  small  creature  a  while  to  each 
of  the  other  Aunties,  until  the  fun  grew  fast  and  furi 
ous,  and  Baby  wild  with  infantile  delight;  and  then 


BABY'S  PARTY.  125 

another  Aunty  was  moved  to  kiss  the  rosy  mouth  be 
cause  "  the  little  darling  was  too  sweet  to  live,"  and  all 
the  other  Young  Aunties  felt  called  upon  to  follow  suit, 
until  at  last  the  Young  Mother  called  the  party  to 
order,  using  her  gold  thimble  as  a  gavel,  and  crying  out 
in  a  loud  voice  that  she  had  something  important  to 
say.  Curiosity  conquered  the  spirit  of  frolic,  and  the 
small  fetish  was  left  in  peace  by  its  feminine  worship 
pers  until  all  the  say  was  said ;  the  neglected  cambric 
was  resumed  and  the  bright  needles  began  to  fly  again 
in  this  charming  sewing-circle. 

"  I  have  been  thinking,"  spoke  the  Young  Mother, 
when  some  stillness  was  restored,  "  that  I  should  like  to 
celebrate  in  some  way  or  other  Baby's  change  into  short 
clothes ;  suppose  we  have  a  Baby  party !  " 

Then  the  sluices  of  talk  opened  up;  exclamations 
of  "Capital!"  "Glorious!"  "What  a  nice  idea!" 
echoed  from  the  Young  Aunties,  and  then  began  to 
now  a  stream  of  plans  and  suggestions. 

"  How  many  babies  do  we  know  ? "  "  Shall  all  the 
rest  come  in  short  dresses  like  our  Baby?"  "  Won't  it 
be  lovely  to  see  such  a  lot  of  new  baby  shoes  ? "  "  All 
the  Nurses  will  have  to  come,  so  it  will  be  a  Nurses' 


126  BABY'S  PARTY. 

party  too!"  "What  will  the  Babies  get  to  eat?" 
"  Pap  and  arrow-root  ? "  "  Wouldn't  it  be  rich  to  ladle 
boiled  milk  out  of  the  big  Punch  bowl  ? "  "  What  en 
tertainment  for  the  Nurses  ? "  "  Oh,  pale  ale  and 
brown  stout !  "  "  Or  else  unlimited  tea  and  toast !  " 
"  Guess  there'll  have  to  be  a  supply  of  Mrs.  Winslow's 
soothing  syrup  !  "  "  Wonder  if  they'll  all  bring  their 
rattles  ?  "  "  Our  Baby  must  have  a  coral  to  assist  the 
concert !  "  "  Ho  !  Baby  !  you're  going  to  have  a  Ball ! 
a  grand  Baby  Ball !  And  all  the  fairy  godmothers  are 
coming,  and  all  the  Baby  Princesses,  with  rings  on  their 
fingers  and  bells  on  their  toes  ?  " 

Down  came  the  authoritative  gold  thimble  again  to 
quiet  the  confusion  of  tongues. 

"  That  is  not  the  kind  of  party  at  all  that  I  want  to 
have,"  said  the  Young  Mother.  "  Now,  girls,  do  be 
still  awhile  till  I  tell  you  what  my  thought  has  been 
about  it.  We  all  know  what  a  blessing  our  precious 
Baby  is  ;  how  we  all  love  her,  and  what  a  pleasure  she 
is  to  us  all — is  she  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  rang  out  the  Aunties,  "  she's  just  a 
dimpled  angel  and  worth  her  weight  in  gold  !  " 

"•  Then,"  continued  the  Young  Mother,  speaking  very 


BABY'S  PARTY.  127 

softly  and  tenderly,  "  it  seems  to  me  so  selfish  to  keep 
all  the  happiness  of  her  to  ourselves,  when  we  might 
make  her  the  source  of  sweetness  and  enjoyment  to 
others.  Now,  you  know,  girls,  that  rich  people's  chil 
dren  get  and  have  everything — our  Baby  couldn't  do 
much  for  them  ;  it  isn't  to  the  happy  infants  Mrho  have 
corals  and  rattles,  arrow-root  and  pap  in  plenty,  that  I 
want  to  give  my  Baby's  party,  but  for  the  poor  little 
creatures  that  never  have  heard  a  rattle  or  saw  a  bowl 
of  good  boiled  milk  in  their  short  lives.  Oh,  ever  since 
my  Baby  was  born  there  has  come  up  to  me  so  often 
the  cry  of  the  children — the  children  who  are  not  shel 
tered  and  cared  for  as  mine  is  ;  and  I  have  wept  over 
the  mothers  who  must  weep  over  their  little  ones,  be 
cause  they  have  so  little  to  give  them  in  a  world  that 
must  be  so  hard  to  them  !  Can  we  do  nothing  for 
these  ?  Can  we  not  give  these  babies  a  party,  and 
make  it  an  occasion  of  kindness  and  rejoicing?  " 

The  Young  Aunties  were  silent  now,  and  most  of 
the  bright  eyes  were  moist  with  the  dew  of  feeling ; 
their  impressionable  hearts  and  fancies  had  gone  out  to 
those  other  babies  so  different  in  all  their  surroundings 
from  their  own  family  pet.  But  one  of  the  gay  young 


128  BABY'S  PARTY. 

girls — partly  because  she  did  not  like  the  unusual  sen 
sation  of  gravity  which  had  settled  upon  her  sunny 
spirits,  and  partly  from  a  naturally  practical  as  well  as 
fastidious  turn  of  mind — suddenly  exclaimed  : 

"  But  poor  people's  babies  always  smell  so  badly, 
and  are  so  dreadfully  dirty  !  they  are  so  sour  and  slob 
bery,  and  generally  wear  yellow  flannel  petticoats  !  " 

"  Ah,  dear !  "  answered  the  Young  Mother,  "  how  can 
they  be  nice  and  sweet  as  our  Baby,  when  the  parents 
have  to  toil  so  hard,  so  early  and  so  late,  that  there  is 
hardly  time  to  make  the  merest  necessaries  of  life? 
Besides,  you  must  remember  that  there  are  some 
mothers  so  poor  that  they  cannot  afford  even  to  buy 
soap ! " 

"  Oh,  Sister,  soap  is  so  cheap ! "  cried  the  practical 
Young  Auntie. 

"  Yes — to  us.  But  to  them  bread  is  so  dear,  and 
bread  is  the  necessity  and  soap  the  luxury." 

The  practical  Young  Auntie  wras  practical  no  longer; 
to  be  too  poor  to  procure  soap  was  a  depth  of  distress 
to  which  her  imagination  had  never  descended.  She 
had  an  immediate  vision  of  a  rich  soap-boiler  whose, 
advances  she  had  always  scorned,  but  who  loomed  up 


BABY'S  PARTY.  129 

now  in  her  mind  as  a  possible  universal  benefactor ; 
and  in  a  momentary  fancy  she  was  herself  standing  at 
the  door  of  his  factory,  dispensing  bars  of  soap  to  a 
dirty  crowd,  as  nuns  deal  out  food  to  the  beggars  at  the 
gate  of  a  convent,  and  somehow  the  Soap-boiler  did 
not  seem  so  low  down  in  the  social  scale  of  humanity 
as  before;  he  became  instead  a  kind  of  apostle  to  re 
deem  the  Great  Unwashed. 

Her  passing  reverie  was  interrupted  by  the  Young 
Mother's  voice,  as  she  continued  :  "DSn't  you  think  we 
could  contrive  at  our  party  to  provide  these  poor  babies 
with  some  of  the  necessaries  that  their  mothers  have  so 
much  trouble  to  obtain  for  them,  and  that,  perhaps, 
will  leave  them  a  little  of  their  hard-earned  money  for 
other  things  ? " 

"  Soap,  for  instance,"  said  the  Young  Auntie,  who 
had  scarcely  got  away  from  the  Soap-boiler  and  his 
factory  door. 

The  generous  hearts  of  the  Young  Aunties  were 
stirred,  and  the  consultation  was  long  and  deep ;  and 
the  girls  went  out  of  Baby's  home  with  a  thoughtful 
pucker  in  each  smooth  forehead,  occasioned  by  pro 
found  consideration  of  each  one's  share  in  the  new 
6* 


130  BABTS  PARTY. 

enterprise,  and  with  much  eager  talk  of  the  ways  and 
means,  and  all  they  meant  to  do. 

And  lo !  as  the  practical  Young  Auntie  wended  her 
way  homeward,  by  a  strange  coincidence  whom  should 
she  meet,  face  to  face,  but  the  Soap-boiler  himself !  and 
with  a  vague  intention  of  securing  future  soap  for 
scented  babies,  she  absolutely  allowed  herself  to  return 
his  respectful  bow  with  a  pleasant  nod,  whereupon  the 
audacious  Soap-boiler,  wrho  had  hitherto  secretly  admired 
her  afar  off,  tool*  the  liberty  of  joining  her  fair  high 
ness  upon  the  open  street.  Once  this  man  who  thus 
dared  would  have  been  met  with  haughtiness  and 
silence,  and  would  soon  have  been  made  to  feel  that  he 
was  no  fit  escort  for  an  aristocratic  Young  Auntie, 
albeit  he  had  all  the  seeming  of  a  presentable  and  cour 
teous  gentleman ;  but  somehow,  in  the  last  hour  soap 
had  taken  on  a  new  dignity,  and  its  manufacturer  did 
not  seem  so  near  to  the  scum  of  the  earth  as  before. 
So,  involuntarily  she  was  almost  gracious,  and  was  sur 
prised  to  find  that  the  despised  individual  was  well  edu 
cated,  had  refined  tastes,  and  even  some  beautiful  enthu 
siasms  ;  and  in  her  astonishment  and  humility  at  having 
BO  under-estimated  a  human  soul  because  of  a  worldly 


BABY'S  PARTY.  131 

business,  she  actually  invited  the  Soap-boiler  to  Baby's 
party.  Afterwards  she  felt  half  ashamed  of  it,  and 
laughed  ironically  to  herself  as  she  pictured  him  enter 
ing  in  the  midst  of  assembled  babies,  dragging  in  a 
great  box  full  of  brown  soap.  And  at  last  it  tormented 
her  so  that  she  had  asked  him,  that  she  began  to  dream 
about  him,  and  her.  nights  were  haunted  by  saponaceous 
visions  until  she  almost  began  to  envy  those  to  whom 
soap  was  a  luxury. 

Soon  the  deft  fingers  of  the  Young  Aunties  began  to 
fly  in  preparation ;  bundles  of  bright  zephyrs  adorned 
their  tables;  balls  of  worsted  were  forever  being 
pounced  upon  by  sportive  kittens;  odds  and  ends  of 
yarn  strewed  each  familiar  place;  every  admirer  was 
called  upon  to  hold  entangling  skeins ;  and  all  their 
lighter  talk  was  interspersed  with  grave  counting  of 
stitches,  till  it  might  have  been  thought  that  each  one 
was  weaving  a  Penelope's  web,  which  was  never  to  be 
finished.  And  they  pursued  the  Grandfathers  for  coin 
to  purchase  Shetland  wool,  and  tormented  them  per 
petually  for  contributions  to  knitting-needles,  till  the 
Grandfathers — who,  however,  paid  out  on  every  demand, 
and  were  always  rewarded  by  a  kiss  from  rosy  lips— 


132  BABY'S  PARTY. 

grumbled  after  the  fashion  of  men  when  their  pockets  are 
touched,  growled  greatly  over  the  "nonsense  of  it  all," 
and  declared  that "  babies  were  a  nuisance  anyhow ! " 
and  that  "  our  Baby  was  too  much  spoiled  !  "  at  all  of 
wilich  the  Young  Aunties  chaffed  and  coaxed,  and  came 
off  triumphant.  But  the  hearty  Grandmothers  entered 
into  the  spirit  of  the  thing  with  real  good-will,  and  gave 
excellent  service  in  the  cause.  And  the  Poor  Relation 
sent  her  small  donation,  neat  and  pure  and  simple  as 
herself,  and  the  Crippled  Sister  wrought  night  and  day 
as  she  could,  at  her  share  of  the  sweet  work. 

And  so  came  on  the  day  of  Baby's  party,  a  day  when 
the  sun  was  shining  and  warm  hearts  were  glowing ; 
when  Baby's  home  was  made  bright  with  flowers,  and 
in  the  midst  thereof  stood  a  great  basket,  heaped  up  to 
overflowing  with  all  kinds  of  warm  and  useful  and 
pretty  baby  garments.  Baby  herself  was  dressed  in  her 
first  short  frock,  much  to  her  own  intense  delight,  as 
she  could  thus  uninterruptedly  play  with  her  disclosed 
feet,  for  the  first  time  covered  with  the  wee-est  pair  of 
colored  slippers,  which  her  round  eyes  contemplated 
with  curious  observation,  and  her  chubby  fingers  began 
immediately  to  try  and  pull  off.  Never  yet  had  she 


BABY'S  PARTY.  133 

beheld  anything  so  fascinating ;  and  to  kick  the  small 
phenomena  back  and  forth,  and  crow  with  self-appro 
bation,  seemed  to  have  become  her  crowning  satisfac 
tion. 

The  first  to  arrive  were  the  Grandfathers  and  Grand 
mothers,  the  latter  each  carrying  a  bundle  of  last  con 
tributions,  and  the  former,  half-langhing  and  half -grum 
bling,  protesting  that  the  whole  thing  was  an  absurdity ; 
that  there  were  enough  paupers  in  the  world,  without 
encouraging  poor  folks  to  bring  any  more  into  exist 
ence  ;  that  women,  anyhow,  always  had  more  sentimen 
tality  than  common  sense  ;  that  because  there  was  one 
Baby  in  the  family,  there  was  no  reason  to  go  mad  over 
a  whole  lot  of  other  babies !  But  the  wary  Young 
Mother  held  her  little  one  up  for  them  to  kiss,  and  that 
stopped  their  further  speech,  for  they  immediately  began 
to  amuse  and  entice  the  infant  with  the  gold  heads  of 
their  canes,  and  straightway  became  as  foolish  over 
Baby  as  any  woman  belonging  to  them. 

Then  came  in  the  Young  Aunties,  one  or  two  at 
a  time,  in  the  prettiest  of  simple  toilettes,  and  with  the 
sweetest  of  youthful,  happy  faces  all  aglow  with  the  ex 
citement  of  benevolence,  and  all  eagerness  and  excla- 


134  BABY'S  PARTY. 

mations  over  Baby's  loveliness  in  its  new  attire ;  and 
with  one  Young  Auntie  entered  the  undaunted  Soap- 

» 

boiler,  who  had  waylaid  her  on  the  road  under  the 
pretence  that  he  felt  rather  shy  at  going  alone  to  a 
party  where  he  knew  so  few — much  to  her  dismay,  as 
she  had  over  and  over  again  repented  the  momentary 
enthusiasm  of  humanity  which  caused  her  to  give  the 
invitation,  and  had  hoped  that  he  had  forgotten  it ; 
but  somehow,  as  she  crossed  the  threshold  with  him, 
blushing  with  an  unsubdued  caste  pride  or  shame,  she 
could  not  help  but  watch  very  narrowly  the  reception 
accorded  him,  and  her  light  heart  was  greatly  relieved 
to  see  that  he  was  warmly  greeted  by  the  Grandfathers, 
who,  being  sensible  men  of  the  world,  thought  a  good 
deal  more  of  a  man's  character  than  his  business  ;  that 
he  was  cordially  welcomed  by  the  Young  Father  and 
Mother,  whose  sense  of  hospitality  did -not  permit  them 
to  exhibit  any  surprise,  or  any  other  feeling  than  pleas 
ure,  at  his  presence ;  and  above  all,  that  the  other 
Young  Aunties  sufficiently  concealed  their  amazement 
and  scorn  under  the  mask  of  distant  courtesy ;  but 
because  she  did  perceive,  notwithstanding,  that  in 
their  innermost  hearts  they  were  looking  down  on  her 


BABY'S  PARTY.  135 

escort,  her  own  rose  up  in  involuntary  championship, 
and  made  her  so  gracious  and  respectful  to  him  that  he 
enthroned  her  Queen  of  his  Life  forever. 

Then  the  pure  presence  of  the  Poor  Relation  entered 
like  a  blessing  in  their  midst,  and  there  was  a  softness 
and  tenderness  in  every  one's  manner  as  she  moved 
from  one  to  another  in  salutation,  which  showed  that 
angels  are  not  always  entertained  unaware. 

And  at  last,  hearty  and  cheery,  with  her  big  black 
coal-scuttle  bonnet  tied  under  her  double  chin,  and  in 
one  hand  the  inevitable  cotton  umbrella — stout  in  the 
stick  and  faded  in  the  stuff — while  the  other  grasped 
the  bulging  basket  whose  lid  was  tightly  secured  with 
green  ribbons,  in  rolled  the  Fat  Nurse,  who,  still  pant 
ing  and  blowing,  having  been  settled  on  a  wide  seat 
with  Baby  trotting  away  on  one  knee,  proceeded  dexter 
ously  to  open  with  a  single  hand  that  mysterious  bas 
ket  without  which  she  was  never  known  to  appear,  and 
about  whose  contents  there  had  always  been  more  or 
less  curiosity ;  and  behold,  when  the  lid  was  uplifted, 
there  was  the  capacious  interior  filled  to  the  brim  with 
carefully  packed  sucking-bottles,  while  the  mellow 
voice  poured  out  an  explanation  :  "  You  see,  when  this 


136  BABY'S  PARTY. 

ere  precious  Baby  sent  me  an  invite  to  come  to  the  party 
— cos,  perhaps,  I  might  help  some  of  the  poor  mothers 
with  my  experience — thinks  I  to  myself,  now  I'd 
like  to  do  something  for  them  poor  little  mites  as  don't 
get  much  nussin',  nor  any  too  much  vittles  or  comfort ; 
but  I  have  them  belongin'  to  me  as  I  have  to  take  care 
of,  and  so  have  mighty  little  money  to  indulge  my  feel 
ings  with,  and  I  lay  awake  two  or  three  nights  off  and 
on  a-cogitatin'  and  ruminatin'  how  I  should  make  it  out, 
and  at  last  I  just  set  out  mornin'  after  morn  in'  with 
that  basket  of  mine,  and  went  to  every  house  where  I 
had  nussed,  and  asked  the  ladies  to  give  me  all  the  bot- 
les  they  had  done  with  for  poor  women  as  couldn't  buy 
'em ;  but  I  didn't  get  enough,  as  babies  keep  comin'  on 
in  most  families,  and  bottles,  like  the  long  clothes,  are 
apt  to  descend  to  the  next;  so  I  went  around  every 
place  where  I  could  find  a  lot  of  bottles  that  could  be 
made  to  do,  and  fixed  'em  up  with  tops  as  don't  cost 
much,  you  know,  and  there  they  are,  and  welcome !  " 

The  Young  Aunties  told  her  that  she  was  "  a  real, 
dear,  good  old  soul ! "  and  the  Grandmothers  patted  her 
on  the  shoulder  and  praised  her  good  sense,  while  to 
the  glistening  sight  of  the  Poor  Relation  these  plain 


BABY'S  PARTY.  137 

bottles  sparkled  like  diamonds;  but  the  Young  Mother, 
thanking  her  warmly,  brought  the  moisture  to  the 
small,  twinkling  eyes  half  buried  in  the  fat  cheeks,  by 
stooping  over  and  tenderly  kissing  the  coarse,  good- 
humored  mouth,  for  though  the  Fat  Nurse  was 
homely,  common,  and  ungrammatical,  though  she  wore 
a  frilled  cap  and  a  bombazine  coal-scuttle,  and  carried 
a  faded  cotton  umbrella,  and  though  her  "  profession !J 
was  not  the  most  exalted  walk  in  life,  still  this  Young 
Mother  saw  under  all  this  the  kind  and  generous  heart, 
and  only  felt  that  "  by  their  fruits  ye  shall  know 
them  I  "  And  lo  \  at  last,  when  they  were  thus  gathered 
together,  and  waiting  for  the  babies,  the  primmest  of 
footmen,  in  the  trimmest  of  livery,  delivered  with  care 
ful  precision  a  very  large  package  and  a  very  short 
note,  and  all  the  assembled  group  were  quite  struck 
dumb  to  think  that  it  had  never  entered  any  of  their 
minds  to  ask  Aunt  Hannah ;  for  the  unexpected  mis 
sive  simply  said ;  "  As  you  have  forgotten  to  invite  me 
to  the  Baby's  party,  I  send,  by  bearer,  my  contribution  ' 
to  the  same,  hoping  it  may  be  found  useful  and  accept 
able."  The  Young  Aunties  immediately  thought  of 
that  grim  fairy  of  the  story-books  who  is  always  left  out 


138  BABY'S  PARTY. 

at  the  christening,  and  comes  in  at  the  last  moment, 
furious  at  the  slight,  to  counteract  all  the  good  gifts  of 
the  other  fairy  godmothers.  But  though  their  Aunt 
Hannah  seemed  a  very  grim  fairy  indeed  to  the  Young 
Aunties,  there  was  nothing  malicious  in  her  gift ;  for, 
when  the  package  was  opened,  there  lay  a  score  of 
violet  and  dove-colored  merino  Babies'  cloaks,  warm 
and  wadded,  suitable  and  plain ;  and  as  they  all  stood 
in  a  group  .looking  at  these  there  came  a  fresh  tender 
ness  into  the  face  of  one  of  the  Grandfathers. 

"  We  let  Hannah  too  much  alone,"  he  softly  said  at 
length.  "  Poor  thing !  she  never  forgets  ;  "  and  then 
noticing  the  curious  looks  on  the  Young  Aunties'  coun 
tenances,  he  added :  "  Ah !  girls,  Aunt  Hannah  is 
homely  and  old  now,  but  she  was  once  as  young  and 
pretty  and  happy  as  any  of  you.  My  sister  had  a  great 
sorrow  long  ago,  and  these  little  things  tell  me  that  she 
has  never  forgotten.  "We  must  all  go  and  see  her 
more.  Her  life  must  be  lonely  enough  in  her  big, 
empty  house.  Go  and  see  her,  girls — go  and  see  your 
Aunt  Hannah  ! "  And  as  he  turned  away  there  were 
tears  standing  in  the  eyes  that  had  just  looked  into  the 
past. 


BAfiY'S  PARTY.  139 

And  hardly  had  the  cloaks  been  laid  out  of  sight 
when  mothers  and  babies  commenced  to  arrive.  It 
was  a  pathetic  sight  to  see  them  all  collected  together. 
All  were  scrupulously  clean,  in  spite  of  the  Young 
Auntie's  foreboding,  and  some  of  the  infantile  faces 
fairly  shone  as  if  they  had  been  well  rubbed  into  un 
usual  whiteness ;  and  though  there  were  indeed  a  few 
yellow  flannel  petticoats,  these  obnoxious  garments  had 
at  least  no  shadow  of  dirt  on  them,  while  the  poor 
dresses  of  the  mothers  were  mended  and  washed  and 
made  as  decent  as  possible,  for  it  was  a  very  rare  holi 
day,  and  all  seemed  to  have  striven  to  be  in  everything 
becoming.  The  babies  themselves  were  many  of  them 
scrawny  and  pale  and  miserable  to  behold,  but  not  par 
ticularly  noisy,  for  the  silent  patience  of  endurance 
enters  early  into  the  spirits  of  the  very  poor,  and  their 
occasional  cries  of  want  and  pain  were  more  of  feeble 
whines  than  the  healthy  roar  of  indulged  infancy.  It 
stirred  the  hearts  of  the  women  to  notice  how  lean  and 
bony  some  of  the  tiny  arms  were,  and  how  pinched  and 
old  a  few  of  the  little  faces  ;  but  still  some  were  round 
and  rosy  and  lusty — evidences  of  Nature's  success  in 
spite  of  circumstances,  and  with  sound  lungs,  which,  how- 


140  BABY'S  PARTY. 

ever,  they  were  much  too  interested  in  the  novel  scene 
to  use. 

There  was  thin  and  tired-looking  Mary  Maloney, 
who  took  in  washing,  and  whose  equally  lean  baby  had 
never  known  any  other  cradle  than  a  broken  wash-tub, 
and  who,  when  no  kindly  neighbor  took  care  of  her 
child  during  her  absence,  carried  her  washes  home  on 
one  arm,  and  her  baby  on  the  other.  And  there  was  a 
consumptive  seamstress,  whose  weird  and  unnaturally 
quiet  infant  looked  like  a  little  shrivelled  up  old  mon 
key,  with  preternaturally  keen  and  cunning  eyes  ;  and 
big,  bouncing  Kitty  Flanagan,  with  a  heart  as  ample  as 
her  broad  bosom,  on  which  reposed  too  sickly  twins, 
the  legacy  of  a  dead  daughter,  and  which  tremendous 
charge  the  generous  soul  had  accepted  with  a  resigna 
tion  which  was  almost  cheerfulness,  though  she  had  to 
work  almost  day  and  night  to  keep  the  life  in  them, 
and  some  besides  who  were  dependent  upon  her.  And 
there  were  many  others  gathered  in  from  the  byways 
and  hedges  of  life,  and  to  whom  need  and  sorrow  were 
all  too  familiar,  and  pleasure  a  luxury  they  had  scarce 
ly  ever  known  ;  so  that  in  all  these  hard  lives,  so  worn, 
so  weary  with  toil  and  care,  so  unlovely  and  unbright- 


BABY'S  PARTY.  141 

ened,  this  sweet  occasion  of  Baby's  party  became  the 
Day  of  Days.  After  the  bustle  of  reception  was  over, 
and  all  were  comfortably  seated  around  the  parlor,  the 
Young  Mother  moved  a  small  table  in  the  midst,  on 
which  was  laid  the  large  new  Family  Bible,  which  had 
been  one  of  her  wedding  presents,  and  on  the  blank 
leaves  of  which  between  the  Testaments  the  only  records 
were  her  own  marriage  and  that  of  Baby's  birth.  She 
read,  half  shyly  and  with  tender  grace,  the  beautiful 
story  of  the  Star  of  Bethlehem ;  and  when  she  paused, 
some  of  these  poor  mothers,  who  perhaps  had  never 
even  heard  a  line  of  the  Good  Book  before,  felt  as  if  a 
new  sacredness  had  fallen  on  their  own  babies,  since  a 
little  child  had  once  been  worshipped  by  the  Wise  Men 
of  the  East.  Then  she  turned  the  cherished  pages  a 
little  farther  on,  and  again  read  only  three  verses,  the 
three  most  beautiful  verses  that  ever  touched  the  uni 
versal  heart  of  humanity ;  and  it  seemed  to  all  those 
untutored  natures,  who  through  all  the  burden  of  ma 
ternity  had  felt  the  throb  of  love,  that  this  blessed  voice 
which,  eighteen  hundred  years  before,  had  rebuked  the 
disciples,  still  spoke  to  each  one  of  them,  and  ba.de 
them  "  Suffer  little  children  to  come  unto  me,  and  for- 


142  BABY'S  PARTY. 

bid  them  not,"  and  because  "of  such  is  the  kingdom 
of  heaven,"  there  fell  the  holiness  of  possible  angel 
hood  upon  each  unseemly  waif,  and  for  a  space  there 
was  a  reverend  silence  as  if  the  hands  of  Christ  were 
in  reality  being  laid  upon  the  little  ones,  and  even  the 
babies  themselves  kept  wonderfully  quiet.  Then  one 
of  the  Young  Aunties  rose  up  and  went  to  the  piano, 
and  sang  this  sweet  benediction  of  children  : 

"  To  Thee,  O  God  !  whose  face 

Their  angels  still  behold, 
We  bring  these  children,  that  Thy  grace 
May  keep,  Thine  arms  enfold. 

"And  as  the  blessing  falls 

Upon  each  youthful  brow, 
Thy  holy  spirit  grant,  O  Lord  ! 
To  keep  them  pure  as  now." 

And  the  hearts  of  the  mothers  were  so  full  that  tears 
fell  down  on  the  wan  faces  of  the.  babies ;  and  then 
all  the  Young  Aunties  gathered  together  around  the 
instrument,  and  chanted,  in  their  clear,  fresh  tones, 
"  The  Mother's  Hymn,"  that  our  honored  Bryant  wrote 
out  of  his  poet's  wisdom  and  insight ;  and  the  un 
familiar  light  and  glow  upon  their  mothers'  connte- 


BABY'S  PARTY.  143 

nances,  made  them  so  strange  to  their  babies,  that  they 
raised  up  their  voices  also  and  wept  aloud.  Then  the 
doors  were  thrown  open,  and  in  was  borne,  not  only 
one  punch-bowl  of  -boiled  milk,  but  another,  borrowed 
from  the  Grandmothers,  brimming  over  with  arrow 
root  pap  ;  and  there  was  great  frolic  and  fun  among 
the  busy  Young  Aunties  filling  up  the  Fat  Nurse's 
acceptable  bottles,  and  so.on  a  gentle  gurgling  sound 
proclaimed  that  the  whole  assembly  were  ecstatically 
at  peace ;  while  the  Fat  Nurse  sat  in  the  midst,  beam 
ing  all  over  with  delight  at  the  appropriateness  and 
usefulness  of  her  present,  and  dealing  out  advice  here 
and  there,  after  the  decided  fashion  of  one  having 
authority. 

"  You  needn't  tell  me,  Mrs.  Maloney,  that  if  that 
child  of  yours  had  such  feedin'  every  day  it  would 
ever  get  plump  and  healthy !  It  ain't  vittles  it  wants 
so  much  as  air !  Yes,  air !  Don't  I  know  well  enough 
how  you  folks  shut  yourselves  up  in  your  room,  and 
patch  up  every  crack  and  cranny  to  keep  out  a 
draught?  Ain't  you  afraid  as  death  of  a  shiver,  and 
keep  every  window  down  for  fear  of  a  bit  of  chilliness? 
You  think  close  air  is  warm  air.  Now,,  if  you'd  put 


14:4:  BABY'S  PARTY. 

any  sort  of  a  cover  over  your  baby,  and  then  fling  up 
your  sashes,  and  let  in  the  blessed  breezes  till  the  smell 
and  the  mustiness  were  all  cleared  out,  and  there  was 
a  chance  to  breathe  something  that  you  couldn't  cut 
with  a  knife,  your  child  would  gain  a  little  flesh  and 
color,  and  you  too  for  that  matter !  You're  just  killing 
your  baby  with  foul  air  ;  that's  all  that  ails  it ;  and  it's 
a  good  deal  better  to  be  a  trifle  cold  than  to  be  dyin' 
by  inches !  Well,  I  know,  my  dear  soul,  that  coal  is 
dear,  and  every  one  can't  afford  a  fire ;  but  a  little  of 
the  Lord's  good,  fresh  air  to  sweeten  your  home  won't 
freeze  you  to  death  !  "  And  then  she  unhesitatingly 
accused  another  conscious  mother  of  giving  her  baby 
paregoric  to  make  it  sleep  at  night,  or  while  she  was 
at  work,  as  it  was  easy  to  be  seen  that  the  small  crea 
ture  was  one  of  the  restless,  nervous  sort  who  are 
always  teething  and  always  crying.  No  denial  or 
excuse  could  deceive  that  practiced  eye  ;  but  instead  of 
a  severe  and  indignant  protest,  she  imparted  a  piece 
of  information :  "  Don't  you  know  what  a  sugar-tag  is  ? 
You  just  take  a  cracker  and  pound  it  up— crackers 
don't  cost  as  much  as  paregoric,  and  one  will  do  two  or 
three  times — and  sweeten  it  a  little,  and  tie  it  up  tight 


BABY'S  PAETY.  145 

in  a  bit  of  rag ;  stick  it  into  your  baby's  mouth,  and  it 
will  suck  away  at  it,  and  keep  still  for  hours ;  try  that, 
and  throw  your  paregoric  bottle  away  anyhow;  for 
cryin'  is  natural,  but  stupor  ain't." 

And  while  she  delivered  her  oracular  injunctions, 
the  Young  Aunties  were  amused  to  notice  that  the 
Soap-boiler,  sitting  quietly  near  by,  listened  to  her  quite 
attentively,  as  though  he  thought  the  Fat  Nurse  was  a 
character ;  who  knew  what  she  was  about,  and  was  well 
worth  hearing ;  and  she,  nothing  daunted  by  her  unusual 
audience,  gave  these  ignorant  mothers,  in  a .  few  mo 
ments,  more  instruction  on  the  proper  physical  rearing 
of  their  children,  than  perhaps  they  had  ever  learned 
in  all  their  lives  before. 

Soon  after,  when  the  Babies  were  all  inwardly  re 
freshed,  and  many  of  them  asleep,  all  the  cushions  and 
pillows  in  the  house  were  brought  into  requisition,  and 
all  the  sofas  and  arm-chairs  were  filled,  and  the  Fat 
Nurse,  Baby's  own  nurse,  the  two  Grandmothers,  and 
the  Poor  Kelation  were  left  to  mind  them  all,  while  the 
mothers  were  ushered  into  the  dining-room,  where  a  plen 
tiful  repast  had  been  prepared.  The  Young  Mother  had 
brought  out  all  her  prettiest  china  and  finest  glass,  and 


14:6  BABY'S  PARTY. 

her  table  was  set  and  garnished  as  though  her  guests  were 
the  best  of  her  friends ;  and  the  Grandfathers  sat  at 
either  end  and  carved  for  the  hungry  eaters  till  their 
faces  glowed  with  the  exercise  ;  and  the  Young  Father 
and  Mother,  the  Young  Aunties  and  the  Soap-boiler 
waited  on  them,  and  the  latter  acquitted  himself  so  grace 
fully,  was  so  thoughtful  and  considerate,  and  so  gentle 
and  courteous  to  each  poor  woman  as  though  she  had 
been  the  highest  lady  in  the  land,  that  one  Young  Auntie 
in  particular,  watching  him  critically,  began  to  think  him 
the  noblest  and  truest  gentleman  she  ever  saw,  and  re 
membered  the  old  story  of  Gareth,  who  served  in  the 
palace  kitchen  for  a  year  and  a  day  before  he  proved 
himself  one  of  the  gallantest  knights  of  King  Arthur's 
Round  Table. 

After  they  had  returned  to  the  parlor,  and  each 
mother  was  gathering  up  her  own  offspring,  the  Young 
Mother  noticed  the  Grandfathers  standing  together  and 
looking  on.  Directly  they  said  a  few  words  to  each 
other,  and  then  suddenly  disappeared ;  and  amid  the 
greater  freedom  of  chatter  which  had  begun,  she  heard 
their  gold-headed  canes  striking  the  hall-floor,  and  the 
front  door  closing  behind  them.  For  half  an  instant 


BABY'S  PARTY.  147 

she  was  mortified,  but  then  reflected  that"  there  muet  be 
something  more  than  weariness  and  disgust  behind  their 
departure,  and  she  felt  confident  that  in  a  little  while 
they  would  be  back  again,  as  they  had  not  spoken  to  her 
before  going  out. 

Then  the  Young  Aunties  struck  up  a  gay  song  with 
a  well-known  chorus,  in  which  most  joined,  and  then 
another  and  another,  and  when  the  laughter  and  noise 
became  a  little  more  than  decorous,  the  great  basket 
was  borne  in  all  heaped  up  with  gifts.  Everything 
that  mothers  could  desire  for  their  babies  was  there. 
Warm  things,  soft  things,  woollen  things,  flee'cy  things, 
knit  things,  and  woven  things,  and  even  a  rattle  apiece 
for  every  baby  present ;  and  the  Young  Mother  and 
Young  Aunties  had  great  joy  in  the  delivery,  first  plac 
ing  each  article  in  Baby's  tiny  hands,  to  be  given  by  her 
to  each  other  baby,  so  that  everything  should  be  consid 
ered  as  Baby's  own  gift  to  the  little  ones. 

The  pleasure  and  gratitude  of  the  mothers  was 
pathetic  to  observe.  Some  were  loud  in  their  thanks, 
but  some  could  hardly  speak  at  all ;  and  one  of  these, 
dumb  with  too  much  feeling,  sank  upon  her  knees  and 
kissed  the  Young  Mother's  bountiful  hands.  But  the 


BABY'S  PARTY. 

climax  was  reached  when  Aunt  Hannah's  cloaks  were 
brought  forward  and  dealt  out.  Hardly,  in  their  wild 
est  dreams  had  these  poor  women  hoped  to  ever  have 
anything  for  their  infants  so  dainty  and  comfortable ; 
and  when  they  were  told  that  these  had  been  sent 
to  them  by  a  lonely  old  lady  who  had  no  children  of 
her  own,  the  mother-souls  vented  themselves  in  all  man 
ner  of  quaint  and  tender  blessings  and  good  wishes  for 
her  whose  generous  heart  had  thus,  amid  her  solitude, 
remembered  the  children  of  the  poor. 

Then  every  baby  was  invested  with  its  new  garments, 
submitting  to  the  operation  with  unusual  serenity,  as  if 
they  too  were  charmed  with  their  acceptable  posses 
sions  ;  and  in  truth,  the  appearance  of  many  was  so  im 
proved  by  these  pretty  and  bright  additions  to  their 
scant  attire,  that  the  mothers  were  quite  elated  with 
pride,  and  grew  eloquent  in  their  praise  of  each  fresh 
article. 

And  when  the  bustle  of  admiration  had  a  little  sub 
sided,  Kitty  Flanagan,  with  the  twins  pressed  to  her 
ample  bosom,  decked  in  their  new  array  and  each  envel 
oped  in  one  of  Aunt  Hannah's  cloaks,  arose,  and  begged 
to  be  allowed  to  make  a  few  remarks ;  and  when  a  sur- 


BABY'S  PARTY. 

prised  silence  was  thus  secured,  she  said  right  out  of 
her  full  heart : 

"  Shure,  and  it's  not  meself  that  often  shpakes  out 
before  my  betthers  ;  but  it  would  be  too  mane  to  thim 
that  has  thrated  us  so  splindidly  if  there  was  niver  a 
one  to  say  a  word  for  the  rist ;  and  troth,  I  am  just 
shure  that  I  expriss  the  siutiment  of  ivery  mother  pris- 
eiit  when  I  wish  that  all  the  saints  may  guard  the  swate 
Baby  as  gave  this  party ;  and  may  the  blissing  of  the 
Lord  God  Almighty  and  the  love  of  the  Virgin  Mary 
be  upon  this  house  and  all  thim  that's  in  it ! "  and  she 
extended  the  twins,  one  on  each  arm,  and  waved  them 
as  if  in  benediction,  and  sat  down  with  a  very  red  face, 
while  all  the  mothers  cried  "  Amen !  " 

There  was  a  little  awkward  pause  of  emotion ;  the 
mouth  of  the  Young  Mother  quivered;  the  Young 
Aunties'  eyes  were  very  moist,  and  those  of  the  Poor 
Relation  shone  as  with  a  light;  the  Grandmothers 
coughed,  and  the  Soap-boiler  turned  suddenly  and 
looked  out  of  the  window,  while  the  Young  Father 
shook  as  much  of  Kitty  Flanagan's  hand  as  could  be 
released  from  her  hold  of  the  twins. 

And  lo !  when  the  time  came  for  departure,  there  on 


150  BABY'S  PARTY. 

either  side  of  the  parlor  door  stood  a  bareheaded 
Grandfather,  each  with  a  roll  of  crisp  bank-notes  in  his 
hand ;  and  as  every  woman  passed  out  one  of  these  was 
put  in  her  hand  with  a  "  God  bless  you  !  "  or  "  Good  luck 
to  you  !  "  by  these  sly  old  Grandfathers  alternately — who 
had  slipped  away  to  the  bank  together,  at  the  time  the 
Young  Mother  was  so  sorry  to  see  them  leave  the  house, 
in  order  to  secure  this  pile  of  bright,  clean  bills,  and  be 
back  again  to  bestow  them  thus  at  the  moment  of  de 
parture  ;  and  when  the  last  mother  and  baby  had  dis 
appeared  through  the  door,  the  Young  Mother  and  all 
the  Young  Aunties  fell  upon  them,  and  kissed  them 
over  and  over  for 'being  such  "precious,  good  old  dar 
lings  ! " 

And  everybody  said  that  Baby's  party  had  been  a 
grand  success,  and  there  was  that  sweet  glow  of  happi 
ness  in  the  heart  of  each  that  came  to  them  inasmuch 
as  they  had  done  it  to  the  least  of  these,  His  little  ones ; 
and  the  Poor  Relation  remembered  that  when  Simon 
Peter  answered  to  Jesus,  "  Yea,  Lord,  thou  knowest 
that  I  love  thee,"  lie  said  unto  him,  "  Feed  my 
Lambs." 

After  this  the  audacious  Soap-boiler  became  more 


BABY'S  PARTY.  151 

and  more  attentive  to  one  particular  Young  Auntie, 
who  slowly  and  reluctantly,  but  involuntarily  yielded 
to  his  advances,  much  to  the  astonishment  and  amuse 
ment  of  the  other  Young  Aunties,  who  watchecl  the 
afiair  with  much  satirical  interest,  and  chaffed  her  un 
mercifully,  after  the  fashion  of  thoughtless  .girls  who 
did  not  care  to  see  anything  serious  Behind  the  mirth 
of  a  good  joke.  One  day  she  would  find  a  cake  of 
fancy  soap  upon  her  toilette  table,  with  the  compli 
ments  of  the  Soap-boiler  directed  in  the  unmistakable 
handwriting  of  -a  mischievous  Young  Auntie  ;  another 
time  she  would  find  her  .own  soap  spirited  away  from 
its  dish,  and  the  address  of  the  factory  left  in  its  place ; 
and  sometimes  small  bouquets  ingeniously  cut  out  of 
variegated  soap  would  be  surreptitiously  arranged 
around  her  room  ;  and  the  very  name  of  soap  began  to 
be  such  a  torture  to  this  perplexed  Young  Auntie  that 
she  blushed  at  its  very  mention ;  until  one  day  the  Fat 
Nurse  came  in  to  say  that  there  had  just  been  left  at 
her  house,  for  distribution  among  the  poor  mothers  who 
were  at  Baby's  party,  a  dozen  barrels  of  crackers  and 
as  many  more  of  sugar,  "  to  help  keep  the  babies 
quiet,"  and  an  accompanying  envelope  full  of  orders 


152  BABY'S  PARTY. 

for  coal,  so  that  "  the  same  babies  might  be  kept  warm 
enough  to  get  some  pure  air ;  "  and  in  the  midst  of  the 
wondering  who  the  generous  donor  could  be,  this 
Young  Auntie  recollecting  how  attentively  the  Soap 
boiler  had  listened  to  the  Fat  Nurse's  instructions  to 
the  mothers  on  the  day  of  Baby's  party,  felt,  with  a 
great  rush  of  tenderness,  that  it  could  have  been  only 
he  who  had  done  this  good  thing,  and  her  heart  went 
out  to  him  to  be  his  forever  and  forever.  So  that,  when 
she  came  into  her  room  a  day  or  two  after,  and  saw  a 
caricature  prominently  placed  over  her  mantel-piece 
representing  her  admirer  with  a  leather  apron  tied 
around  his  waist,  and  a  big  stick  in  his  hand  stirring  a 
steaming  kettle  of  soft-soap,  and  was  aware  of  the 
peeping  faces  of  the  assembled  Young  Aunties  watch 
ing  through  the  crack  of  the  door  the  effect  of  their 
latest  attempt  at  ridicule,  she  indignantly  tore  down 
the  picture,  rent  it  into  shreds  and  stamped  on  them, 
and  then  flinging  wide  the  door,  cried  out  in  her  anger 
and  anguish,  "  That  it  was  a  mean  shame  to  vilify  a 
noble  gentleman, ;  that  they  knew  as  well  as  she  did, 
that  though  he  owned  the  factory  he  did  no  such  work 
there;  that  lie  had  inherited  his  business  from  his 


BAJIY'S  PARTY.  153 

father,  and  whatever  they  might  think  of  it,  had  made 
it  by  his  honorable  dealing  the  peer  of  any  other ;  that 
he  was  a  good  man  and  true,  and  that — that — they 
might  say  what  they  pleased  about  it,  but  she  loved 
him — oh,  she  loved  him  !  " 

There  was  no  more  chaff  after  that.  The  Young 
Aunties  were  all  conscience-smitten  immediately  ;  they 
rushed  into  the  room  ;  they  put  their  arms  around 
her,  and  caressed  her  and  cried  over  her ;  said  they 
were  only  in  fun,  and  begged  her  to  forgive  them  ;  and 
praised  the  Soap-boiler  with  an  affectionate  hypocrisy 
that  brought  her  soul  content ;  though  they  were  very 
much  surprised  to  find  that  the  Grandfathers  were 
mightily  pleased  with  the  match,  on  account  of  the 
good  name  and  great  uprightness  of  the  suitor's 
character. 

And  on  the  day  of  the  wedding,  in  fidelity  to  the 
apostleship  of  cleanliness  and  appreciation  of  soap,  a 
large  box  of  the  same  was .  left  at  the  home  of  each 
poor  mother,  who,  at  first,  perhaps  did  not  connect  this 
unexpected  and  remarkable  gift  with  the  gay  .Young 
Auntie  who  had  helped  to  make  them  all  so  happy  on 

that  memorable  day  of  Baby's  Party. 

7* 


VII. 

THE    SUNSET    OF   LIFE. 

THE  Poor  Relation's  Aged  Father  and  Mother  sat 
together  in  the  vine-wreathed  porch,  in  the  glowing  sun 
set  of  a  mellow  Autumn  day.  The  sky  was  all  glorious 
with  purple  and  gold  ;  roseate  clouds,  fringed  with  their 
silver  linings,  floated  like  islands  of  the  blest  upon  an 
amber  sea ;  while  piled  up  against  the  wide  horizon 
were  the  transparent  pinnacles  and  lustrous  domes  of 
an  ethereal  temple  wifli  gates  of  pearl  guarded  by 
white-winged  angels;  and  just  overhead  spread  the  ten 
der,  melting  blue,  with  its  unutterable  calm  that  soothes 
the  soaring  spirit  with  the  peace  of  God  which  passeth 
•understandino-.  And  the  leaves  on  the  vines  seemed  to 

o 

have  caught  the  changing  colors  of  the  'heavens,  and  had 
turned  crimson  and  yellow,  and  on  every  light  breeze 
some  of  them  were  shaken  down  upon  the  earth.  With 
the  Aged  Father  and  Mother,  too,  the  Sunset  of  Life 


THE  SUNSET  OF  LIFE,  155 

was  coming  on  apace,  and,  like  the  fading  leaves,  they 
also  were  passing  away.  And  as  the  old  man  sat  with 
his  hands  clasped  on  the  top  of  his  staff,  and  looked  out 
with  his  dim  eyes  towards  the  iridescent  "West,  its  glow 
seemed  to  wrap  them  about  with  lingering  warmth,  and 
to  make  the  needles  shine  as  they  clicked  through  the 
Aged  Mother's  knitting.  They  had  been  silent  for 
a  while,  each  thinking  the  thoughts  that  come  to  the 
very  old — of  a  past  full  of  memories,  of  a  future  so 
short  in  this  world,  so  tinged  with  mingled  feelings  as  it 
extended  into  the  next. 

"  Wife,"  at  length  said  the  old  man,  "  we,  too,  are 
going  down — going  down  like  the  sun  ;  we  have  borne 
the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day,  and  the  shades  of  even 
ing  are  gathering  fast ;  we  have  had  a  hard  life  together ; 
will  you  be  sorry  when  the  night  comes  on,  and  there  is 
no  more  any  work  or  device  in  the  grave  ?" 

"  Not  sorry,  Father,"  she  answered,  with  the  sweet 
quavers  of  age  in  her  mild  voice,  "  for  the  grave  is  such 
a  precious  rest  for  these  worn-out  bodies  ;  there  will  be 
no  more  aches  or  weariness  there,  and  ifc  is  pleasant  to 
think  that  for  the  part  of  us  which  is  not  body  there  is 
the  Beyond,  where  one  likes  to  believe  there  are  no 


156  THE  SUNSET  OF  LIFE. 

more  tears.  And,  Father,  if  our  lives  have  been  hard 
in  some  respects,  it  has  been  very  happy  in  others ; 
surely  it  has  been  a  great  blessing  that  we  have  been 
spared  to  each  other,  that  we  have  had  all  our  good  and 
ill  together ;  and  then,  above  all,  there  were  the  chil 
dren  ! " 

"  The  children  ! "  replied  the  old  man,  a  little  bitterly, 
"  were  there  ever  children  born  into  this  world  that  were 
not  a  disappointment  in  some  way  or  other  to  their 
parents  ? " 

"  Oh,  not  all,  not  all !"  answered  the  Aged  Mother. 
"  Think  of  our  Mary  and  her  Crippled  Sister  ! " 

"  Ay,  ay,"  said  the  Aged  Father,  "  they  are  good 
enough — true  and  tender  ;  but  then  the  lives  they  have 
had  !  All  sorrow,  and  pain,  and  labor !  It  has  been  an 
ever-piercing  thorn  in  my  side  that  our  girls  could  not 
have  been  sheltered  in  from  every  hardship  and  every 
grief— that  they  should  not  have  had  happy  homes 
and  little  ones  of  their  own,  like  that  Baby  who  was 
here  to-day !  And  it  might  have  been — it  all  might 
have  been,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  wickedness  of  that 
boy!" 

"  Oh,  Father,  Father  !  don't  say  hard  things  of  him, 


THE  SUNSET  OF  LIFE.  157 

for  it  was  not  wilful  wickedness,  only  the  folly  and 
wildness  of  youth;  and  I  am  sure,  if  he  had  lived, 
he  would  have  atoned  long  ago.  Eemember  only  that 
he  was  our  first-  child — our  eldest  son  !  " 

"  I  remember  it  only  too  well !  "  sternly  replied  the 
old  man.  "  I  remember  my  joy  when  he  was  born ; 
what  high  hopes  I  built  on  him  ;  how  I  worked  for  him, 
and  watched  his  growth  with  such  pride  and  gladness  ! 
I  tell  you,  wife,  that  the  love  with  which  a  father  loves 
his  eldest  son  passes  the  love  of  a  woman,  for  he  sees  in 
him  a  fresher,  newer  self,  and  the  embodiment  of  his 
race,  and  there  is  a  sort  of  sadness  and  yearning  in  it, 
too,  from  his  own  knowledge  of  life ;  and  I  loved  this 
son  so,  and  tried  to  make  him  strong  and  wise.  And 
after  all,  he  dragged  my  name  in  the  dust,  and  ruined 
us  all  over  there  in  the  Great  City.  I  have  never  been 
the  same  man  since." 

"  But  oh,  Father  !  "  and  the  clicking  needles  were  si 
lent,  and  fell  into  her  lap,  as  she  laid  her  withered  hand 
on  her  husband's  arm,  and  there  was  a  sob  amid  the 
pleading  tones  ;  "  think  how  heart-struck  he  must  have 
been  when  he  took  his  own  life  rather  than  face  your 
wrath  ;  think  what  an  agony  of  suffering  and  shame  our 


158  THE  SUNSET  OF  LIFE. 

boy  must  have  gone  through  when  he  could  thus  plunge 
into  death  to  escape  it !  Oh,  don't  say  it  was  cowardly, 
Father,  for  he  was  not  himself  when  he  did  it !  He 
was  insane  with  remorse,  for  our  John  had  been  such  a 
brave  boy  !  "  and  the  two  wrinkled  hands  were  wrung 
together,  and  a  tear  flashed  down  upon  the  bright  nee 
dles.  The  old  man  put  his  arm  around  the  trembling 
form,  and  gently  answered  :  "  You  are  right,  Mother 
dear ;  and  it  is  not  well  for  me  to  go  back  to  that  sad 
time,  or  to  set  a  single  act  of  temptation  and  wrong 
doing  against  all  the  other  years  of  affection  and  obedi 
ence.  And  after  all,  we  had  great  comfort  in  our 
grave,  steady  Jamie ! " 

"  But  oh  !  "  said  the  Aged  Mother,  all  stirred  up  with 
these  reminiscences,  "  it  was  hard,  too,  that  he  should 
have  died  in  a  foreign  land,  away  from  us  all,  and  with 
only  strangers  to  close  his  eyes !  " 

And  a  new  shadow  fell  over  the  old  man's  face ;  the 
Aged  Mother  saw  it,  and  her  quivering  arms  went 
round  his  neck,  and  she  pressed  her  white  and  wrinkled 
cheek  against  his  wan  face. 

"  Dear,"  she  murmured,  "  it  may  seem  a  strange 
thing,  but  I  very  rarely. think  of  our  boys  as  dead  or 


THE  SUNSET  OF  LIFE.  159 

lost  to  us ;  mostly  I  look  forward,  and  see  them,  radi 
ant  and  beautiful,  in  that  other  world  where  I  am  going 
to  meet  them.  Ah !  Father,  you  will  never  be  hard  upon 
our  Johnnie  there,  for  all  things  will  be  made  known 
to  you  then  !  and  Jamie  will  be  j  ust  your  other  self." 

"  "Well,  wife,"  answered  the  old  man  softly,  "  I  be 
lieve  it  may  be  so,  for,  after  all,  John  really  loved  us, 
and  by  the  love  that  was  in  him  he  may  have  been  made 
meet  for  heaven,  and  by  love  he  shall  be  forgiven ! ". 

The  purple  and  gold  of  the  setting  sun  flashed  out 
more  gloriously  than  ever ;  the  white  pinnacles  and 
shining  domes  of  the  ethereal  Temple  grew  more  and 
more  luminous,  and  the  tender  blue  above  seemed  to 
drop  down  its  inexpressible  calm  like  the  very  dew 
of  heaven;  the  yellow  autumn  leaves  floated  awhile 
on  the  soft  breeze  before  they  rested  on  the  damp 
mould,  and  a  silence  more  eloquent  than  words  fell 
upon  the  Aged  Father  and  Mother,  as  with  clasped 
hands  they  still  looked  out  towards  the  glowing  "West. 

Then  the  aged  woman  said  softly  out  of  her  reverie 
of  remembrance :  "  Dear  Father  !  you  always  think  of 
the  children  as  grown  up  ;  but  they  always  come  back 
to  me,  when  I  arn  alone,  as  little  children  still.  Often 


160  THE  SUNSET  OF  LIFE. 

and  often  I  sit  by  the  nursery  fire  in  our  old  home,  and 
they  come  in  with  their  pattering  feet,  and  group  them 
selves  about  me  in  the  twilight :  Johnnie,  with  his  curly 
head  upon  my  knee ;  Jamie,  always  grave  and  steady, 
on  his  cricket  in  a  corner  of  the  hearth ;  our  dear 
Mary,  with  the  flames  lighting  up  her  golden  hair  and 
angel  face ;  our  poor,  afflicted  one,  brigftt  and  restless 
then,  dancing  round  me  on  her  tiny  feet ;  and  the  baby 
— oh,  Father !  the  baby  that  never  grew  up,  lying  close 
upon  my  happy  breast !  See !  I  have  only  to  close  my 
eyes,  and  they  are  all  there.  I  forget  Johnnie's  sin, 
and  Jamie's  far-away  grave ;  I  forget  our  Mary's  toil 
ing,  lonely  life,  and  the  pains  of  her  Crippled  Sister ;  I 
forget  the  tears  I  shed  for  my  baby ;  for  I  only  behold 
the  faces  of  their  childhood — the  innocent,  sweet  faces, 
untouched  by  the  world  and  unspoiled  by  time  !  They 
come  in  and  out  to  me  all  day  long ;  I  hear  their  young 
voices ;  I  feel  their  clinging  arms !  They  have  been 
men  and  women,  sinners  and  sufferers,  but  they  are  my 
little  children  always  still !  " 

"  Ah !  would  we  could  have  kept  them  so,"  replied 
the  old  man,  "  kept  them  innocent  and  unstained,  and 
untried  forever !  for  what  do  the  years  bring  us  all  ? 


THE  SUNSET  OF  LIFE.  161 

And  if  all  things  had  turned  out  well,  in  the  course  of 
nature  and  time  our  children  would  probably  have 
turned  to  other  interests,  and  wrung  our  hearts  anyhow 
by  separation !  As  it  is,  what  has  life  brought  them, 
and  what  has  it  brought  us  ?  Death,  and  sorrow,  and 
an  old  age  of  poverty  and  regrets !  " 

The  Aged  Mother  clasped  his  hand  firmly.  "  No, 
dear !  no  regrets  for  me.  I  have  had  my  children ;  there 
is  no  regret  for  me  in  that — even  about  John ;  and  in 
our  deepest  poverty  I  could  always  go  back  in  my  heart 
to  our  old  home,  and  feel  all  the  love-richness  of  my 
early  motherhood.  There  is  no  poverty  for  a  mother 
whose  children  have  loved  her  !  We  cannot  judge  how 
life  has  dealt  even  with  otir  own.  How  do  we  know 
but  that  Johnnie's  sin  may  have  been  his  salvation  from 
worse,  and  that  the  Angel  of  Death  may  not  have  led 
him  into  some  condition  fitter  for  his  nature  ?  and  if 
Jamie  died,  Jamie  had  lived  well ;  there  never  can  be 
any  regrets  about  Jamie !  and  surely  the  lives  of  our 
Mary  and  her  Crippled  Sister  are  a  daily  lesson  and 
blessing !  And  I  have  my  baby  in  heaven — my  baby 
that  never  has  grown  up  through  all  these  years! 
Father,  we  must  have  no  regrets  at  God's  dealings  with 


102  THE  SUNSET  OF  LIFE. 

us.  A  higher  wisdom  than  ours  ordereth  all  things 
right !  "  And  the  Aged  Father  bowed  his  head,  and 
reverently  said  "  Amen  ! " 

The  light  in  the  sunset  sky  was  something  wonderful 
to  see ;  the  very  splendor  of  the  innermost  heavens 
seemed  to  glow  through  its  magnificence  of  color  ;  the 
waves  of  the  amber  sea  spread  farther  and  farther,  and 
the  silver-fringed  islands  deepened  in  their  roseate 
hue ;  the  wings  of  the  angels  guarding  the  gates  of 
pearl  were  too  luminous  for  eyes  to  rest  on ;  and  the 
shining  pinnacles  and  domes  seemed  to  be  wreathed 
with  ascending  flames ;  the  measureless  depths  of  the 
blue  above  were  still  calm  with  their  unspeakable 
peace  ;  and  the  dying  leaves  ceased  for  a  little  while  to 
fall,  but  floated,  floated  softly  still,  as  silence  once  more 
fell  upon  the  Aged  Father  and  Mother. 

After  a  quiet  space,  the  old  man,  with  his  dim  eyes 
still  looking  outward  towards  the  iridescent  hues,  said 
a  little  faintly,  as  the  breeze  lifted  his  snowy  hair: 
"  Wife,  the  days  are  very  long ;  the  sun  is  slow  in 
going  down ;  1  am  weary,  and  1  would  the  end  were 
come ! " 

And   she  answered  gravely,  "  It  cannot  be  far  off, 


THE  SUNSET  OF  LIFE.  163 

for  oar  work  is  done  and  the  darkness  is  drawing 
near." 

The  purple  and  gold  lost  a  little  of  their  brightness  ; 
the  waves  of  the  amber  sea  waxed  paler  and  withdrew 
from  the  far-off  verges ;  the  roseate  islands  paled  to 
a  delicate  pink ;  over  the  lustrous  domes  and  pinnacles 
of  the  ethereal  temple  a  scarcely  perceptible  white  mist 
seemed  to  arise ;  at  the  gates  of  pearl  the  angel  wings 
lost  something  of  their  dazzling  sheen,  and  in  the 
lovely  blue  overhead  a  grayish  shadow  mingled  with  its 
brooding  peace ;  more  and  more  of  the  crimson  and 
yellow  leaves  slipped  away  from  the  thinning  vines, 
were  whirled  about  faster  in  the  cooler  air,  and 
dropped  swiftly  upon  the  waiting  mould. 

The  old  man  turned  his  dim  eyes  from  the  fading 
West  to  gaze  upon  the  wrinkled  face  of  his  life-long 
companion.  "  Dear,"  he  said,  "  the  night  is  dark  and 
the  grave  is  cold  ;  but  there  is  one  thing  that  has  never 
been  dark  to  me,  night  or  day — the  light  of  your  loving 
eyes ;  and  one  thing  that  has  never  been  cold,  even 
through  the  dreariest  winter — the  warmth  of  your 
wifely  heart.  God  bless  you,  love  of  my  youth  and 
consoler  of  my  age !  " 


164  THE  SUNSET  OF  LIFE. 

And  the  worn  old  hand  shook  that  caught  hold  of 
hers  ;  the  touch  of  it  chilled  her  very  life-blood,  and 
a  strange  shadow  passed  over  his  aged  face. 

"  Father,  father  !  "  she  gasped  out,  as  she  leaned  over 
with  pallid  lips  to  kiss  his,  already  cold  and  white,  "  do 
not  leave  me  alone  !  take  me  with  you  to  the  chil 
dren  ! " 

"Come!"  he  just'  whispered  with  the  last  fleeting 
breath  ;  "  we  will  go  together  to  our  children  ! "  and 

• 

the  shadow  that  was  on  his  face  passed  over  to  hers. 

The  faint  gleam  of  the  purple  and  gold  died  out ;  the 
fading  flush  of  rosy  isles  paled  and  paled  till  even 
the  silver  lining  lost  its  brightness;  the  glow  of  the 
amber  sea  was  drawn  inward  from  the  gathering 
shades  of  evening  that  swept  over  it  to  the  changing 
gates  of  pearl,  where  the  angels'  wings  were  soaring 
away  in  snowy,  transparent  clouds ;  while  behind  the 
dimming  veil  of  mist  the  ethereal  domes  and  pinnacles 
were  dissolving  like  the  baseless  fabric  of  a  vision  ;  and 
over  the  peace  of  the  heavenly  blue  the  blackness  of 
silent  night  was  spreading  fast.  The  crimson  and 
yellow  leaves  had  lost  their  color  in  the  failing  light, 
and  lay  an  undistinguishable  heap  upon  the  dew-damp 


THE  SUNSET  OF  LIFE.  165 

mould,  while  the  last  rays  of  the  dying  day  lingered 
upon  the  staff  which  had  fallen  at  the  old  man's  feet, 
and  upon  the  bright  needles  which  would  click  in  the 
busy  fingers  no  more  forever.  And  over  the  vine- 

«/  o 

wreathed  porch  the  gray  shadows  of  night  crept  about 
the  Aged  Father  and  Mother,  who  sat  very  still  together 
with  clasped  hands  when  the  Sunset  of  Life  was  over. 


VIII. 

• 
AUNT   HANNAH. 

AUNT  HANNAH  lived  in  a  grim,  gray  mansion  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  town,  and  to  the  gay  Young  Aunties, 
bright  with  their  untried  life  and  joyous  with  early 
hope,  Aunt  Hannah  was  a  very  grim  and  gray  person 
age  herself ;  for  she  resided  alone  in  this  large,  empty 
house,  full  of  the  solid,  heavy  furniture  of  other  days, 
keeping  the  casements  always  darkened,  so  that  the 
rooms  seemed  haunted  by  gloomy  shadows,  and  moving 
about  therein  with  a  grave,  slow  presence,  as  of  one 
who  carried  a  solemn  weight.  Nothing  was  ever  awry 
in  that  silent  house ;  the  high-backed  chairs  stood 
straight  against  the  wall  in  their  accustomed  places 
from  year  to  year,  and  the  big,  old-fashioned  bedsteads, 
with  their  canopies  and  draperies,  were  more  like 
funeral  catafalques  than  couches  for  the  living.  The 
primmest  of  footmen  opened  the  hall-door  to  rare  visit- 


A  UXT  HANNAH.  167 

ors  with  a  subdued  and  sepulchral  air,  suggestive  of  an 
undertaker ;  and  the  fattest,  laziest,  nattiest  of  coach 
men  in  antiquated  coat  and  capes,  drove  the  fat,  lazy, 
shining  old  horses  at  a  snail's  pace  when  Aunt  Hannah 
went  in  her  roomy  coach  to  make  her  annual  duty  call 
on  her  brother's  family.  Then  the  unwilling  Young 
Aunties  made  expressive  wry  faces  to  each  other  on  the 
stairs  as  they  went  down  to  endure  her  visit,  and  sat 
stiffly  round  the  parlor,  hammering  their  brains  for  stu 
pid  commonplaces  with  which  to  entertain  her — with 
all  their  merry  quips  and  quirks  banished  from  their 
lips,  and  all  their  airy  gossip  laid  aside  as  something 
too  uncongenial  for  the  chilling  atmosphere  of  so  severe 
a  guest.  Even  the  kindly  Grandmother  grew  less  cor 
dial  and  more  studiously  polite  with  this  reserved  and 
solitary  woman;  and  if  the  hearty  Grandfather  kissed 
his  sister  with  warm  welcoming,  a  tinge  of  sympathetic 
sadness  seemed  always  to  fall  over  him  as  he  talked 
with  her ;  and  she,  going  not  at  all  into  the  world,  had 
but  few  subjects  of  conversation  for  them  all,  and  it 
wras  with  a  great  show  of  deference  and  stifled  sighs  of 
relief  that  their  occasional  intercourse  terminated. 
And  SON  Aunt  Hannah  dwelt  apart  in  her  grim  and 


168  AUNT  HANNAH. 

echoing  house,  a  lonely  woman  little  known.  She 
manifested  so  little  interest  in  the  outer  world,  that  it 
was  only  on  family  occasions  that  she  wTas  recalled  or 
regarded  as  one  of  themselves.  Possibly,  if  she  had 
been  poor  and  in  want,  the  loving  kindness  of  these 
kindred  hearts  would  have  drawn  her  among  them,  and 
shared  more  of  their  own  life  with  her.  But  Aunt  Han 
nah  was  extremely  rich  ;  and  while  the  worldly  Grand 
mother  sometimes  thought  of  this  with  a  spasmodic 
access  of  interest  and  attention,  other  members  of  the 
household  seemed  to  make  it  an  additional  cause  for 
distance.  The  Young  Aunties  had  a  vague  understand 
ing  that  some  great  sorrow  had  once  made  Aunt  Han 
nah's  days  dark  and  dreary  ;  but  they  had  so  many  light 
matters  of  their  own  to  engage  their  hearts  and  time, 
that  they  troubled  their  minds  and  memories  very  little 
with  one  they  scarcely  sought. 

But  the  Young  Mother's  spirit  was  stirred  within  her 
by  the  present  of  little  cloaks  which  Aunt  Hannah  had 
sent  to  Baby's  Party ;  and  an  unusual  interest  had  been 
excited  when  Grandfather  lsb.  One  had  spoken  with  so 
much  emotion  of  the  forgotten  fairy  who  had  not  been 
bidden  to  the  festivit}'.  She  pondered  these  things  in 


AUNT  HANNAH.  169 

her  heart  of  hearts,  and  her  thoughts  lingered  about  the 
grim,  gray  house  and  its  grim,  gray  tenant.  Surely,  it 
seemed  to  her,  that  was  a  tender  soul  who  had  cared  so 
considerately  for  the  infants  of  the  poor,  and  more 
and  more  she  felt  that  in  the  woman's  nature  there 
must  be  sweet  founts  that  might  be  reached  by  little 
hands ;  and  there  came  over  her  a  great  yearning  to 
wards  this  unloved  being,  who,  in  her  uuremembered 
loneliness,  had  sent  forth  such  a  token  of  goodness  to 
unknown  babies.  It  occurred  to  her,  that  if  the  habit 
ual  barrier  of  reserve  could  be  penetrated  and  the  pre 
cious  humanities  within  once  aroused  by  some  gentle 
ministry,  that  Aunt  Hannah  might  be  drawn  out  of  her 
seclusion  to  be  a  power  in  the  world  and  a  benediction 
to  others  ;  and  she  was  strongly  moved  to  rise  up  and 
go  to  her  with  such  greeting  as  should  open  the  way  to 
more  familiar  amenities.  But  the  Young  Mother  was 
proud  and  delicate  and  quixotic  as  any  uncalculating 
soul,  and  her  cheek  colored  as  she  fancied  that  her 
motive  might  possibly  be  misunderstood;  but  a  higher 
inspiration  than  that  came  upon  her  with  the  sudden 
pity  that  Aunt  Hannah's  very  wealth  should  shut  her 
away  from  the  approaches  of  real  affection.  Still,  it 


170  A  UNT  HANNAH. 

was  not  an  easy  matter  to  get  nearer  to  an  interior 
nature  through  the  ordinary  method  of  formal  visits, 
and  the  Young  Mother,  who  had  been  a  gay  girl  her 
self,  had  been  frozen  up  like  all  the  other  Young 
Aunties  by  the  undemonstrative  demeanor ;  but  at  last 
the  idea  dawned  on  her  that  as  Aunt  Hannah  must 
have  a  feeling  for  babies — or  she  never  would  have  fur 
nished  those  dainty  cloaks — perhaps  Baby  might  be  the 
very  best  means  by  which  to  find  her  innermost  heart.  ' 
So  Baby  was  forthwith  arrayed  in  all  her  glory,  and 
borne  by  Baby's  Nurse  to  the  door  of  the  grim,  gray 
house,  where  Baby's  Young  Mother  took  her  in  her 
own  arms,  and  was  admitted  alone,  by  the  primmest  of 
footmen,  to  the  silence  of  the  solitary  halls. 

Amid  the  oppressive  shadows  of  the  gloomy  parlor 
she  sat  waiting  with  a  beating  heart  for  the  grim,  gray 
woman,  over  whose  threshold,  she  compassionately 
meditated,  no  other  baby  had  ever  come.  Then  slowly, 
stately,  coldly,  plain  and  pale,  Aunt  Hannah  entered ; 
and  before  she  could  scarcely  recognize  her  visitor  in 
the  dim  light,  the  Young  Mother  had  gone  swiftly 
forward  to  her,  and  kissed  her  over  and  over  on  her 
lips,  her  eyes,  her  brow.  People  rarely  kissed  Aunt 


AUNT  HANNAH.  171 

Hannah,  and  then  not  often  with  particular  warmth,  so 
that  she  was  at  once  struck  dumb  with  surprise. 

Then  the  Young  Mother  spoke  in  her  earnest,  win 
ning  voice : 

"  Dear  Aunt  Hannah,  I  am  very  sure  you  must  love 
babies,  so  I  have  brought  mine  to  see  you."  And  Baby, 
not  a  whit  abashed  by  a  stranger,  put  out  her  chubby 
arms,  and  cooed  up  into  the  new  face  as  if  she  found 
nothing  there  to  frighten,  of  grimness  or  of  grayness ; 
but  a  strange  pallor  spread  over  the  worn  countenance, 
and  the  Young  Mother  saw  with  dismay  that  her  cold- 
mannered  kinswoman  had  commenced  to  tremble  as 
with  a  chill.  But  Baby  put  up  one  of  her  dimpled 
hands,  and  touched  the  faded  cheek,  and  the  next  in 
stant  the  little  golden-ringed  head  was  clasped  close  to 
a  heaving  breast.  The  Young  Mother  was  too  amazed 
to  speak ;  she  stood  still  a  moment  while  the  older 
woman  mastered  her  unexpected  emotion,  for  she 
instantly  divined  that  the  sight  of  her  child  had  touched 
the  chord  of  some  passionate  sorrow  which  had  never 
died.  But  Aunt  Hannah  strove  to  assume  her  usual 
deportment,  and  to  converse  upon  ordinary  topics, 
though  she  never  lifted  her  eyes  off  Baby's  small  figure, 


172  A  TINT  HANNAH. 

and  her  lips  quivered  as  she  talked,  till  at  last,  as  if  the 
fountains  of  the  great  deep  broke  up,  all  at  once  she 
cried  out  suddenly,  "  A  baby  !  a  baby !  In  my  arms ! 
on  my  heart !  " 

"  And  why  not  ? "  softly  said  tjie  Young  Mother, 
"  they  are  a  woman's  arms ;  it  is  a  woman's  heart ! " 
And  Aunt  Hannah  looked  at  her  as  if  half  frightened 
at  having  betrayed  her  feelings,  and  half  timidly,  as 
if  she  scarcely  expected  to  be  believed.  "Dear,"  she 
said,  "  it  must  surprise  you  that  I,  of  all  people,  should 
be  so  agitated  at  seeing  your  little  one ;  but,  do  you 
know,  it  is  the  first  time  in  all  my  life  I  ever  held  a 
baby  in  my  arms  ?  " 

The  Young  Mother  was  almost  shocked,  knowing 
how  often  babies  are  more  plentiful  in  the  world  than 
arms  to  hold  them ;  but  then  it  was  Aunt  Hannah,  and 
Aunt  Hannah  had  liVed  shut  up  from  the  world,  babies 
included,  this  many  a  long  year.  "  Dear  Auntie,"  she 
answered,  "  perhaps  I  have  disturbed  you  too  much  by 
bringing  baby  to  you;  but  you  see,  we  all  think  so 
much  of  our  blessing  that  I  could  not  bear  that  there 
should  be  one  member  of  the  family  who  did  not  know 
her,  and  I  wanted  you  to  love  our  darling  too."  And 


A.  UNT  HANNAH.  173 

Aunt  Hannah  answered  her  slowly  and  sadly,  "  It  is  a 
long  time  since  I  loved  anything ! " 

The  Young  Mother  laid  her  soft  hand  on  the  one 
that  still  clung  to  her  child,  and  the  elder  woman 
broke  ont  in  quicker  words :  "  I  thought  I  should  never 
love  anything  in  this  life  again ;  and  now  you  have 
brought  me  a  baby — of  all  things  to  me,  a  baby !  and  it 
is  stirring  the  old  life  in  my  heart  once  more !  "  and 
she  drew  the  Young  Mother  close  down  to  her,  and 
whispered,  half  gasping,  as  if  each  syllable  came  forth 
with  a  wrench  of  pain:  "Don't  you  know — have  you 
never  heard — that  I  too  was  once  a  mother  ?  "  "  No, 
Auntie,"  answered  the  Young  Mother,  "  I  did  not  know 
that ;  and  some  day,  dear,  when  you  have  come  to  love 
my  Baby,  will  you  tell  me  about  yours?"  and  Aunt 
Hannah  drew  her  closer,  closer,  whispering  still,  as  if 
she  could  not  breathe  aloud  the  secret  sorrow  of  her 
soul :  "  Yes,  I  was  once  a  mother,  hut  I  never  had  a 
baby ! "  and  then  answering  the  puzzled  look  which 
crossed  the  Young  Mother's  face,  she  added,  with  a 
great  sob,  "  Oh,  child  !  my  baby  died  before  it  was 
born."  And  then  the  Young  Mother  understood  that 
this  disappointed  hope  had  been  the  overflowing  drop 


174  AUNT  HANNAH. 

of  despair  in  Aunt  Hannah's  bitter  cup.  "What  could 
she  say  to  such  a  life-cherished  grief,  that  had  been  a 
matter  of  so  little  moment  in  the  family  that  it  had 
been  forgotten,  or  never  spoken  about,  and  yet  which 
had  helped  to  darken  and  make  solitary  this  sad 
woman's  whole  existence.  She  laid  her  fair  cheek 
against  the  worn  face.  "  Dear,  dear  Auntie,"  she  said. 
"  I  can  imagine  how  hard  that  was  !  To  the  mother- 
heart  our  child  is  always  our  child,  and  the  greatness 
of  the  loss  is  not  to  be  measured  by  the  life  !  ''  Aunt 
Hannah  clung  to  her,  held  her  tight,  and  the  arms  of 
both,  women  were  around  the  Baby. 

"  Child,  child,"  she  murmured,  "  for  thirty  years  I 
have  not  spoken  of  this  ;  I  never,  never  could  speak  of 
it  before ;  my  heart  was  broken  then,  for  I  lost  all  at 
once — all  at  once !  Come  with  me,"  she  said,  starting 
up,  "  I  must  tell  you  all  now,  for  you  are  a  woman  and 
a  mother,  and  you  will  understand.  Your  Baby's 
hands  have  torn  away  the  seal  of  my  silence !  "  And 
with  Baby  making  unresisted  clutches  at  her  brooch, 
she  kept  her  in  her  arms  as  she  walked  up  the  broad 
staircase,  followed  by  the  Young  Mother  with  her  soul 
full  of  wonder  and  sympathy.  She  led  the  way 


A  UNT  HANNAH.  175 

through  dimly-lighted  passages  and  shaded  rooms,  to 
one  which  at  a  first  glance  the  Young  Mother  saw  had 
been  arranged  as  a  nursery  ;  for  there  was  a  costly  cradle 
in  a  corner,  covered  with  faded  silk  and  rich  lace  grown 
yellow  with  time  ;  and  there  was  the  dainty  baby's 
basket,  with  the  same  color  paled  away  by  the  years, 
and  a  coral  and  bells  lying  on  the  bureau  in  whose 
drawers  she  surmised  there  were  laid  away  the  little 
garments  that  had  never  been  worn  ;  and  over  the  deep 
fireplace  with  its  bright  andirons,  and  piled-up  un- 
lighted  logs,  there  hung  a  man's  portrait  which  seemed 
to  look  down  still  upon  Aunt  Hannah's  plain  and 
aging  features  with  a  young  and  loving  face.  And 
there  the  two  women  sat  down  together,  and  as  Aunt 
Hannah  poured  out  the  story  of  her  past  to  the  Young 
Mother,  Baby  fell  asleep  with  its  tiny  golden  head 
nestled  upon  that  bosom  which  had  never  before  pil 
lowed  an  infant's  slumber. 

"  I  was  a  very  happy  girl,"  she  said,  "  not  merry  and 
gay  as  your  bright  young  sisters  very  likely  are  among 
themselves,  but  rather  grave  and  silent,  and  a  little  shy 
in  my  ways,  but  still  truly  and  peacefully  happy.  You 


176  A  UNT  HANNAH. 

know  your  father  and  I  lost  our  parents  when  we  were 
children,  but  we  grew  up  nevertheless  under  kindly 
and  careful  guardianship,  and  there  was  not  a  cloud  in 
all  tlie  untroubled  sky  of  my  early  years;  and  when 
love  came  to  me  it  was  so  gradual,  so  natural  an^l  so 
sweet,  that  I  never  dreamed  of  the  depth  and  intensity 
of  my  own  nature ;  and  all  things  went  so  smoothly  and 
pleasantly  for  me  as  regards  my  marriage — for  my  hus 
band  was  young,  well-born,  well  thought  of,  and  very 
rich.  And  when  he  brought  me  home  to  this  old  house, 

o  t 

which  had  been  his  father's  before  him,  and  welcomed 
me  into  its  walls  with  a  grace  and  earnestness  as  charm 
ing  as  it  was  precious,  I  lifted  up  my  heart  in  wordless 
thanksgiving  as  the  most  blessed  among  women.  We 
lived  here  two  or  three  such  happy,  perfect  years,  that 
if  it  had  not  been  for  the  memory  of  them  I  never, 
never  could  have  borne  the  crushing  weight  of  the 
after-desolation.  Two  or  three  years,  and  I  had  but  one 
desire  in  the  world.  It  seemed  to  me  that  a  love  so 
entire,  so  mutual,  ought  to  blossom  out  in  the  crowning 
flower  of  a  child  that  should  be  partly  him  and  partly 
me,  as  the  very  personation  and  consecrated  consumma 
tion  of  our  blended  spirits.  And  at  last  my  desire  was 


AUNT  HANNAH.  177 

about  to  be  fulfilled.  Dear,  I  can  hardly  tell  you,  it 
was  something  so  strange  and  so  sacred,  with  what  lofty 
and  holy  aspirations  I  was  filled.  To  be  the  author  of 
a  living  soul,  the  originator  of  an  immortal  being,  the 
selected  instrument  in  the  miracle  of  creation  !  Oh,  the 
mystery,  the  awe,  the  glory  of  it,  filled  me  with  humili 
ty,  with  ecstasy,  with  daily  worship.  What  a  new 
world  of  visions  and  hopes  opened  on  me;  what  an 
overwhelming  sense  of  responsibility  overmastered  me  ; 
what  a  going  forth  and  clinging  to  the  divine  comforted 
me !  All  my  faculties  enlarged,  my  instincts  widened. 
I  became  part  of  the  whole  beating  pulse  of  humanity, 
since,  in  my  exaltation,  all  humanity  seemed  also  to  be 
parent  to  my  child.  And  there  were  times  when  the 
divinity  of  love  so  flooded  my  soul  that  I  realized  the 
emanation  of  all  existence  from  the  Fatherhood  of  God. 
I  longed  with  inexpressible  yearning  that  this  coming 
being  should  be  in  all  things  pure  and  unblemished 
.  and  beautiful ;  and  I,  who  was  no  more  myself  to  my 
self,  or  of  any  worth  save  as  the  mother  of  my  child,  I 
was  minutely  careful  of  my  acts,  my  thoughts,  even  of 
my  surroundings.  I  studied  and  strictly  conformed  to 
physiological  laws ;  I  read  only  the  loftiest  and  noblest 


178  AUNT  HANNAH. 

books ;  I  steadfastly  put  away  from  me  every  narrow 
or  unelevating  sentiment;  I  lived,  moved,  and  had  my 
being  in  an  atmosphere  of  exquisite  harmony,  inspiring 
pursuits,  and  delicious  reveries.  I  lived  long  future 
years  in  my  child's  life  ;  I  peopled  this  old  house  and 
these  silent  rooms  with  other  little  shapes ;  I  hoard 
their  footsteps  on  the  stairs,  their  voices  in  the  halls.  I 
even  lived  in  my  children's  children ;  and  through  it  all 
always  was  the  beloved  face  of  their  Father  beaming  on 
me,  if  possible,  more  tenderly  as  a  Mother  than  a  Wife. 
And  I  loved  him  so.  I  think  only  a  woman  can  com 
prehend  the  added  sense  of  belonging,  the  solemn  r£ali- 
zation  of  being  really  flesh  of  his  flesh,  bone  of  his  bone, 
of  being  truly  joined  together  beyond  any  possible 
chance  of  putting  asunder,  with  which  I  loved  my  hus 
band  as  the  father  of  my  child.  And  loving  him  so, 
living  thus  in  my  hopes  and  dreams,  without  a  shadow 
as  large  as  a  man's  hand  to  warn  me  of  the  wrath  to 
'  come,  I  saw  him  go  forth  one  day,  strong  in  his  youth, 
full  of  health  and  happiness  and  love,  and  in  a  single 
hour  they  had  brought  him  home  to  me — quite  dead ! 
He  had  been  thrown  from  his  horse,  had  struck  his  tem 
ple  in  the  fall,  and  "had  been  killed  instantly.  After 


A  TINT  HANNA  H.  1 79 

that  1  remember  nothing  more.  When  my  mind  came 
back  to  me,  I  recollected  that  my  baby  ought  to  have 
been  born,  and  my  first  looks  searched  for  it  and  my 
first  words  asked  for  it.  They  tdd  me,  a  little  sadly, 
but  as  if  they  felt  it  was  but  a  small  calamity  compared 
with  the  greater  loss,  that  it  had  died  before  it  was 
born.  Its  father's  death  had  slain  it.  When  they  told 
me  that,  I  answered  never  a  word,  but  turned  my  face 
to  the  wall  and  laid  there  for  days  like  a  stone.  And 
it  seemed  to  me  as  if  my  heart  had  turned  to  stone 
within  me.  What  could  others  know  of  my  dead  hopes, 
my  buried  visions  ?  What  understanding  could  any  one 
else  have  that  I  was  torn  asunder,  had  lost  flesh  of  my 
flesh,  bone  of  rny  bone,  w^as  a  mere  nothing  and  part  of 
being  in  becoming  less  than  a  wife  and  mother — a  mere 
desolate  self,  the  wreck  of  what  was  once  a  complete 
woman  !  So  I  never  said  much  to  any  one.  My  sor 
row  was  deeper  than  words,  almost  deeper  than  tears  ; 
and  I  took  up  my  life  again  in  a  dull  sort  of  way,  never 
caring  greatly  for  anything  more,  and  have  lived  ever 
since  alone  with  my  dead.  When  I  knew  your  Baby 
had  been  born,  so  near  to  me,  my  heart  trembled 
towards  it ;  and  when  I  heard  about  your  Baby's  Party, 


ISO  AUNT  HANNAH. 

somehow  a  tender  feeling  towards  those  little  waifs 
came  over  me ;  and  now  that  you  have  brought  this  lit 
tle  one  here,  see  how  the  very  sight  and  touch  of  a 
baby  has  pierced  the  long  repression,  and  opened  up 
the  very  secrets  of  my  soul !  " 

With  reverent  and  caressing  hand  the  Young 
Mother  drew  the  drooping  head  upon  her  shoulder. 
u  Dearest  Auntie,"  she  said,  "  because  I  too  am  a 
mother,  I  understand  all  of  it — the  joy,  the  aspiration, 
the  hope,  the  awful  sorrow,  and  the  life-long  void. 
And  I  know — I  know  there  can  never  be  any  love  like 
the  love  you  have  lost  on  earth  ;  but  dear,  dear  Auntie ! 
if  you  will  let  us  all  come  about  you,  you  do  not  know 
how  tenderly  we  will  all  feel  towards  you,  and  what 
a  real  pleasure  it  will  be  to  every  one  of  us  to  be  with 
you,  to  love  you,  to  make  your  life  a  little  less  lonely. 
It  is  not  good  for  anyone  to  be  alone  so  much;  and 
with  a  heart  so  capable  of  loving,  you  would  have  more 
comfort  than  you  think  in  giving  out  feelings  to  others. 
Dear  Auntie,  may  I  send  Baby  to  you  often,  and  bring 
the  girls  round  to  cheer  you  up  ? " 

Aunt  Hannah  sat  silent  a  moment.  "  Child,"  at 
length  she  answered,  "  there  is  so  little  in  me  to  interest 


AUNT  HANNAH.  181 

yon  young  people  !  I  have  lived  shut  up  with  my  past 
and  ray  books  so  long  that  your  world  is  like  a  strange 
land  to  me  ;  my  ways  are  not  your  ways." 

"  You  are  our  own  dear  Auntie,"  replied  the  Young 
Mother,  "  and  we  are  going  to  love  you,  and  make  you 
love  us  just  as  you  are.  Only  let  your  heart  come  out 
to  us,  and  we  will  try  and  bring  you  a  little  happiness 
to  brighten  up  this  long  gloom  and  solitude  ! " 

And  Aunt  Hannah  had  tears  in  her  eyes  and  sobs  in 
her  voice  as  she  said :  "  Dear,  you  shall  all  come  to  me 
if  you  will,  for  I  have  been  lonelier  than  any  one 
knew,  and  I  did  not  dare  to  let  myself  feel  till  this 
minute  how  much  I  longed  for  other  souls." 

And  after  that  the  two  women  talked  long  together ; 
talked  much  of  the  family,  and  a  little  more  of  the  dead, 
and  naturally  then  upon  that  most  universal  of  all  sub 
jects,  the  life  beyond  the  grave,  and  the  hope  of  meeting 
again  the  loved  ones  who  had  gone  before.  And  when 
the  Young  Mother  dwelt  upon  the  beautiful  faith,  and 
spoke  to  Aunt  Hannah  as  if  her  lost  baby  was  surely  an. 
angel  in  the  heavens,  Aunt  Hannah  made  sad  reply  : 

"  Ah  !  dear,  how  do  I  know  ?  No  sign  has  ever  been 
made  me  from  the  other  side.  And  the  best  authorities 


182  AUNT  HANNAH. 

cannot  tell  whether  a  human  being  is  really  a  soul  till 
the  hour  of  its  birth ;  and  it  is  of  souls  we  cherish  our 
dreams  of  immortality.  All  these  long  years  I  have 
beat  against  the  blind  wall  of  an  ignorance  that  can 
never  be  enlightened  in  this  world.  I  have  studied  all 
that  has  been  written  about  it,  and  at  last — at  last,  I 
can  only  say,  '  I  do  not  know  ! '  This  thought  of  the 
Beyond  is  with  me  always.  To  1113  my  husband  always 
is — no  reason  destroys  that  faith ;  but  about  my  baby 
all  is  doubt !  I  think  if  I  had  seen  its  face  I  might 
have  had  more  sureness,  and  I  have  spent  hours  upon 
hours  trying  to  see  with  my  heart  how  it  might  have 
looked ;  but  it  is  always  dim,  shadowy,  far  off  from  me 
— I  cannot  make  it  alive.  I  have  lived  in  sorrow  upon 
the  memory  of  a  dream." 

The  Young  Mother's  heart  was  too  full  for  speech. 
Here  was  a  new  phase  of  grief  for  which  she  knew  no 
consolation ;  for  she  was  not  wise  in  metaphysics,  and 
her  simple  trust  had  never  known  aught  of  those  refine 
ments  of  casuistry  with  which  brooding  and  solitude 
torture  searching  intellects.  Only  the  many,  many 
melancholy  days  and  unhappy  nights  of  this  life-long 
desolation  rose  up  before  her,  and  the  sympathy  of  her 


AUNT  HANNAH.  183 

whole  loving  nature  welled  over  to  this  stricken  woman 
who  could  not  'even  look  out  to  the  realms  above  and 
behold  her  baby's  face  as  't  were  the  face  of  an  angel. 

After  that  there  began  a  new  life  about  Aunt 
Hannah.  Baby  went  to  her  every  day ;  and  in  Baby's 
Nurse  she  instincti\^ly  perceived  that  there  too  was 
one  who  had  suffered,  and  there  came  to  be  a  gentle 
ministry  of  unspoken  interest  between  the  two  that 
brought  healing  to  each.  Then  the  Young  Aunties 
began  to  drop  in — a  little  shyly  and  very  respectfully 
at  first,  but  soon  warming  up  into  their  natural  selves  as 
more  constant  companionship  wore  off  reserve  on  both 
sides ;  the  quips  and  quirks  came  back  in  her  presence, 
and  the  airy  gossip  was  no  longer  withheld.  Aunt 
Hannah's  heart  was  younger  than  she  knew,  for  all  her 
youth  had  only  been  buried  under  her  sudden  and 
nourished  affliction,  and  began  to  bubble  up  again  in 
familiar  intercourse  with  youthful  spirits ;  and  soon  the 
old  house  was  seldom  without  one  or  other  of  these  gay 
and  merry  girls.  The  Grandfathers  walked  round  of 
evenings  to  chat  with  her,  and  even  talked  with  her 
sometimes  of  stocks  and  markets  and  business  ven- 


A  UNT  HANXAU. 

tares,  as  one  having  many  moneyed  concerns,  and  said  to 
each  other  that  "  Hannah  was  not  wanting  in  good, 
sound  sense."  The  hearty  Grandmothers  trotted  in 
and  out  on  all  sorts  of  errands,  till  Aunt  Hannah  was 
almost  bewildered  by  the  multiplicity  of  interests 
which  dawned  on  her,  and  the  deference  with  which 
these  kindly  old  ladies  regarded  her  opinions  and  sug 
gestions.  But  in  truth  the  hearts  of  all  these  women 
were  touched  to  the  core  by  the  thought  of  that  unused 
cradle  in  the  empty  room  ;  and  the  remembrance  of  it 
made  them  very  gentle  and  earnest  towards  the  lonely 
woman.  The  Young  Father  and  the  Young  Mother 
seemed  to  think  there  was  no  one  like  her,  and  the 
Poor  Relation  grew  as  dear  to  her  as  a  sister.  51nd 
Aunt  Hannah  was  fast  learning  that  the  love  of  kin 
dred  and  the  exchange  of  intimate  affection  was  the 
very  sweetness  of  life  itself. 

And  the  solitary  home  commenced  to  blossom  like  a 
rose.  First  one  window  and  then  another  was  opened, 
till  the  glad  sunlight  filled  every  crack  and  cranny  of  the 
once  silent  halls  and  gloomy  rooms.  Then  one  Young 
Auntie  and  then  another  brought  in  a  pot  of  flowers, 
and  the  color  and  beauty  were  like  a  welcome  surprise 


A  UNT  HANNAH.  185 

where  the  shadows  used  to  lurk,  and  in  a  little  while 
all  the  sills  were  bright  with  blooms ;  and  one  day  a 
blithe  canary  made  the  wondering  walls  ring  with  its 
echoing  melody ;  and  so  came  back  life,  and  light,  and 
music  to  the  grim  and  gray  old  house. 

And  when  a  delicate  pink  tint  settled  on  Aunt  Han 
nah's  faded  cheek,  and  her  eyes  took  to  shining  at  the 
new  order  of  things,  the  audacious  Young  Aunties 
never  rested  till  they  had  arranged  her  hair  in  more 
modern  style,  and  got  her  dress  altered  to  the  fashion 
of  the  day  ;  and  they  rummaged  through  long-locked 
presses,  and  found  rare  old  creamy  laces  and  beautiful 
jewels,  and  took  as  much  delight  in  decking  her  out 
witf?  them  as  though  they  were  children  adorning  a 
favorite  doll ;  and  then  they  danced  around  her  in  ad 
miration,  and  marched  her  up  to  mirrors  and  bade  her 
look  how  young  and  pretty  she  \vas  growing,  almost  as 
pretty  as  the  darling  Baby  herself — the  Baby,  who  was 
the  Young  Aunties'  highest  standard  of  perfection ; 
and  wondered  in  their  own  hearts  how  they  ever  could 
have  thought  Aunt  Hannah  a-  grim  and  gray  old 
woman  ;  for  love  and  companionship  had  freshened 
her  face  as  well  as  her  soul,  and  the  strangeness  and 


186  AUNT  HANNAH. 

-  the  sweetness  of  being  sought  and  petted  and  made 
much  of  by  these  young  people  made  her  heart  very 
warm  and  soft  towards  them,  so  that  she  was  as  pliable 
as  wax  in  their  hands,  and  they  did  nearly  as  they 
pleased  with  her.  And  a  quaint,  hidden  humor  began 
to  sparkle  dryly  up  in  her  talk  which  struck  out 
answering  fun  from  these  merry  girls,  and  so  it  came 
about  in  time  that  Aunt  Hannah  felt  that  she  <rave  as 

O 

much  amusement  as  she  shared. 

Grandfather  No.  One  was  never  tired  of  expressing 
his  joy  at  his  sister's  altered  ways,  and  Grandfather  No. 
Two  thought  it  was  as  good  as  a  play  ;  the  Grand 
mothers  said  it  was  a  "  resurrection ; "  the  Youn<r 

7  ,—l 

Father  told  his  wife  she  was  a  magician,  and  the  Young 
Mother  answered  that  it  was  the  dear  Bab}7  who  had 
wrought  the  miracle ;  but  the  Poor  Relation,  sitting  in 
the  twilight  with  the  Crippled  Sister,  said  that  "  it  was 
all  the  goodness  of  God." 

The  primmest  of  footmen  was  driven  distracted  by 
these  remarkable  changes,  and  was  dimly  conscious 
that  they  had  reached  even  to  him,  and  that  he  him 
self  was  no  longer  quite  the  same  either  ;  he  had  to 
open  the  hall-door  so  often  and  answer  so  many  cheer- 


A  TINT  HANNAH.  187 

ful  voices,  that  his  own  lost  something  of  its  sepulchral 
tone,  and  with  half  a  dozen  gay  young  Aunties  flying 
in  and  out  all  day  long,  asking  all  sorts  of  questions  and 
giving  all  kinds  of  orders,  it  was  impossible  to  maintain 
the  solemnity  of  an  undertaker ;  gradually,  under  the 
exactions  of  these  busy  spirits,  the  dignity  of  his  office 
relaxed,  and  he  found  himself  doing  ever  so  many 
things  that  had  no  relation  to  his  position  as  a  footman, 
and  quite  incompatible  with  continued  primness.  At 
first,  in  the  confidence  of  the  lower  regions,  he  was 
inclined  to  resent  the  increase  and  alterations  of  his 
functions,  and  said  more  than  once  that  he  "  Couldn't 
stay  where  there  was  so  many  goings  on,  though  he 
had  lived  with  the  Missus  ever  since  he  wore  buttons." 
Cut  he  never  could  get  away  from  those  Young 
Aunties ;  at  the  first  prim  sign  of  insubordination  de 
livered  in  the  most  sepulchral  tones,  his  puzzled  brain 
was  tormented  with  the  wildest  of  chaff,  and  he  retired 
to  the  lower  regions  again  in  utter  bewilderment  as  to 
whether  he  was  the  most  important  or  the  most  ridi 
culed  footman  that  ever  donned  livery.  Then  the 
plants  and  the  bird  seemed  to  afford  him  unusual  inter 
est,  and  he  was  observed  to  steal  into  the  rooms  and 


188  AUNT  HANNAH. 

take  surreptitious  sniffs  at  the  flowers,  while  he  almost 
surfeited  the  canary  with  furtive  offerings  of  sugar.  In. 
a  little  while  he  actually  took  to  smiling  paternally  on 
the  pranks  of  the  Young  Aunties,  and  in  the  course  of 
time  became  the  abject  slave  of  these  arbitrary  damsels. 

The  fat  coachman,  as  he  himself  expressed  it,  "  was 
just  turned  topsy-turvy  ;  scarcely  knew  if  he  was  on  his 
head  or  his  heels  with  so  much  going  and  coming ;  and 
the  horses  were  a-getting  thin  with  exercising,  and  the 
flesh  was  a-wearing  off  his  own  bones !  " 

"  Jeems,"  he  said  to  the  prim  footman  in  a  confiden 
tial  conference  in  the  lower  regions,  "  Jeems.  they 
ain't  nateral,  these  rum  changes.  When  folkses  have 
lived  such  a  lot  of  years  along  all  quiet  and  easy,  why 
they  can't  keep  on  comfortable  without  stirring  every 
body  up  I'm  blowed  if  I  can  see  ! " 

"  But,  after  all,"  replied  James,  "  the  changes  aro 
kinder  pleasant  when  you  get  used  to  'em  ;  we'd  got  so 
set  into  being  gruesome  that  we  didn't  know  there  was 
anything  better  in  the  world  till  the  Missus'  relations 
came  round.  I'm  sure  I  pretty  near  a-yawned  my  head 
off  many  a  night  in  this  very  room  for  want  of  some 
thing  to  think  about !  " 


AUNT  HANNAH.  189 

"  Well,  I  guess  you  got  it  now,"  said  the  fat  coach 
man,  "  for  I  ain't  hardly  got  time  to  think  at  all  between 
'em  all.  But  it's  them  gals  as  aggerawates  me  the 
worst.  They're  as  full  of  tricks  as  monkeys,  and  yon 
never  know  whether  they're  poking  fun  at  you  or  not, 
even  when  they  gives  you  an  order." 

"  Oh,"  answered  James,  in  the'  warmth  of  his  new 
allegiance,  "  they're  young  and  light-hearted ;  they 
don't  mean  harm ;  and  I'm  sure  there  ain't  many  young 
ladies  as  would  be  as  free-spoken  and  cordial,  even  to 
old  servants  like  us.  They've  a  nice  way  of  making 
you  feel  as  if  you  were  just  as  good  as  themselves,  and 
know  you  won't  presume  on  it." 

"  Entirely  too  free-spoken  for  my  idees,"  retorted  the 
fat  coachman  ;  "  for  half  the  time  you  don't  know  what 
they're  talking  about ;  and  there's  one  of  'em  keeps 
a-calling  me  out  of  my  name  all  the  while,  as  if  it  was 
a  joke,  and  a-proddin'  at  rne  about  widders,  as  if  I  was 
given  to  gallivanting  round.  '  Mr.  Weller,'  she  says 
to  me,  and  she  turns  to  the  Missus,  and  says  she,  'Now 
Auntie,  ain't  he  Mr.  Weller  out  and  out  ? '  and  the 
Missus  she  smiles,  first  at  her  and  then  at  me — and  I 
must  say  the  Missus  is  a  differing-looking  woman  since 


190  A  UNT  HAXNAH. 

she  took  to  smiling — and  she  says, '  Mr.  Weller  is  an  in- 
vallable  coachman  !  '  And  then  the  young  un  she  looks 
at  me  with  a  long  face,  and  says  very  solemn, '  But,  Mr. 
Weller,  you  must  beware  of  the  widders ! '  'I  don't 
know  none  ! '  says  I,  getting  red,  for  thinks  I,  '  maybe 
somebody's  been  telling  lies  about  me ! '  '  Widders 
are  dangerous,  Mr.  Weller,'  she  keeps  on.  'Well, 
Miss,'  says  I,  '  I  ain't  after  no  widders,  and  I  ain't 
afeard  o'  none!'  and  the  Missus  she  just  laughs  out, 
the  first  time  I  heard  her  laugh  since  she  was  like  that 
same  young  un  there,  before  the  drefful  time  when  they 
brought  the  Master  home  stiff  and  stark :  and  you 

O  7  */ 

know  it  kinder  made  me  choke  all  up  to  hear  her  laugh 
again  ;  and  I  makes  my  best  bow,  and  says  I,  '  If  you 
please,  miss,  I'll  look  out  for  widders,  and  I'll  be 
Weller  or  anybody  else,  if  it's  going  to  make  my  Missus 
laugh  like  that ! '  and  that  there  young  un  she  just 
jumped  up,  and  grabbed  my  hand,  and  shook  it,  and 
said  she,  '  You  dear  old  Weller,  if  you  ain't  good 
enough  to  be  the  blessed  Pickvick  hisself  ! '  There's 
another  name  she's  got  for  me,  and  blow  me  if  the 
whole  of  'em  ain't  at  it  ever  since,  first  one  with  their 
Weller  and  another  with  their  Pickvick,  and  a-ordering 


A  UNT  HANXAH.  191 

me  to  drive  to  the  Markess  of  Granby,  when  they  mean 
the  summer-house  on  the  hill,  and  I  just  believe  they're 
half  cracked  !  and  between  'em  all,  and  the  hosses 
a-falling  off,  and  the  everlasting  stirring  up,  my  capes  is 
a-getting  as  loose  as  an  old  blouse  !  " 

And  the  fat  coachman  kept  on  grumbling,  but  the 
roomy  coach  was  kept  always  bright,  the  old  horses 
groomed  as  sleek  as  satin,  and  the  Young  Aunties  de 
clared  that  his  eyes  twinkled  .in  his  fat  cheeks  when 
they  called  him  Weller. 

Some  little  time  lifter  Aunt  Hannah  had  thus  been 
restored  to  the  activities  of  life,  her  conscience  began  to 
reproach  her  for  her  many  years  of  indulgence  in  soli 
tude  and  uselessness  ;  she  seemed  to  feel  that  she  owed 
a  debt  to  humanity  for  her  long  withdrawal  from  its 
interests  and  requirements,  and  she  became  almost  eager 
in  her  quiet  way  to  take  up  some  work  by  which  the 
rest  of  her  existence  could  be  made  to  compensate  for 
the  idle  and  aimless  past.  Through  contact  with  other 
busy  spirits  she  became  cognizant  of  undeveloped  ener 
gies  in  herself,  and  she  grew  restless  in  her  outlook  for 
some  worthy  effort.  Hitherto  she  had  thought  but  lit- 


192  AUNT  HANNAH. 

tie  of  her  accumulated  wealth ;  her  abundance,  having 
been  a  matter  of  habit,  had  been  taken  as  a  matter  of 
course,  and  its  comings  in  and  its  goings  ont  had  been 
regulated  only  by  her  individual  needs  and  luxuries  ;  but 
now  the  burden  of  her  possessions  pressed  on  her,  the 
inequalities  of  human  fortunes  touched  her  tender  soul, 
she  grew  into  comprehension  of  her  stewardship,  and 
longed  to  find  a  judicious  and  beneficial  channel  into 
which  to  direct  her  unemployed  riches  for  the  helping 
and  salvation  of  others.  At  last  this  constant  thought 
and  yearning  became  almost  a  trouble  to  her,  and  she 
must  fain  open  her  full  heart  to  the  Young  Mother  and 
the  wise  old  Grandmothers,  who  entered  into  her  feel 
ings  and  plans  with  a  zest  and  sympathy  all  the  greater, 
perhaps,  with  one  of  them,  that  she  felt  a  little  guilty  in 
her  own  mind  of  having  made  sundry  calculations  on 
the  probable  distribution  of  Aunt  Hannah's  fortune ; 
but  even  she  was  just  enough  to  perceive  that  the  alle 
viation  of  the  many  was  a  higher  purpose  than  the 
enriching  of  the  few,  and  an  earnest  interest  was 
yielded  to  the  lonely  woman  who  was  so  unaffectedly 
reaching  out  to  do  good.  Then,  too,  it  is  a  curious 
peculiarity  of  our  complicated  human  nature  that  the 


A  [INT  HANNAH.  193 

disappointment  of  future  advantage  may  be  condoned 
by  present  confidence  and  the  privileged  pleasure  of 
co-operation  and  assistance  in  the  very  object  which 
changes  the  direction  of  bestowal ;  for  to  be  personally 
valued  by  some  particular  people  is  often  more  gratify 
ing  than  the  mere  anticipation  or  reception  of  their 
generosity.  So  these  women  held  many  a  disinterested 
consultation,  discussed  scheme  after  scheme,  went 
about  together  to  hospitals  and  asylums,  and  studied 
great  charities,  if  thereby  they  might  light  upon  the 
best  thing  to  be  effected — but  without  success ;  for  all 
understood  that  whatsoever  her  hand  might  find  to  do, 
it  was  Aunt  Hannah's  wish  that  she  should  do  it  with 
her  own  might,  that  she  desired  to  absorb  her  own  per 
sonality  in  it,  and  pass  the  rest  of  her  days  in  service 
acceptable  to  the  Lord. 

But  the  Young  Mother,  having  her  Baby  for  inspi 
ration,  and  having  once  seen  into  the  depths  of  that 
sensitive  heart  which  had  been  plunged  into  solitude  by 
the  deprivation  of  motherhood,  divined  at  last  the 
truest  direction  to  satisfy  the  searching  spirit. 

"  Dear  Aunt  Hannah,"  she  said  one  day,  when  they 

•were  alone,  "  it  seems  to  me  that  in  the  work  you  are 
9 


194  AUNT  HANNAH. 

looking  for  you  need  something  on  which  you  can 
expend  love  as  well  as  money  ;  it  is  a  dry  business  just 
doing  a  general  good  without  one's  own  emotions  are 
exercised  at  the  same  time.-  As  a  woman,  what  your 
nature  is  craving  is  not  that  wide,  vague  affection  for 
all  humanity  which  would  make  you  help  just  for 
humanity's  sake ;  that  is  very  grand,  but  the  glow  of  it 
is  too  exalted  to  be  continual  in  one's  daily  feelings. 
You  need  some  little  part  of  humanity  to  come  near  to 
you  as  your  very  own,  to  cherish  and  to  aid.  You 
want  it  in  your  home,  in  your  every-day  life,  to  fill  the 
nooks  and  corners  of  your  hungry  heart.  And,  dear 
Auntie,  I  think  there  is  only  one  thing  that  will  do  all 
this  for  you,  for  you  are  one  of  those  women  in  whom 
the  mother-instinct  is  stronger  than  any  other,  if  you 
will  only  give  it  a  chance.  You  have  no  children,  and 
in  this  unequal  world  there  are  so  many,  many  poor 
babies  who  have  no  mothers.  You  have  this  large, 
empty  house,  and  a  warm  heart  ready  to  take  in  the 
helpless.  Fill  them  with  babies.  Take  into  your 
loving  arms  these  little  waifs  that  are  left  unloved,  and 
I  think,  dear  Auntie,  that  such  a  work  would  be  a 
blessing  to  you  every  way." 


AUNT  HANNAH.  195 

Aunt  Hannah  caught  at  the  idea  at  once ;  and  the 
Grandmothers  said  "  it  was  the  very  thing ! "  and 
they  wondered  they  had  not  thought  of  it  before ;  the 
Grandfathers  shrugged  their  shoulders,  and  remarked 
that  "  all  women  were  mad  on  the  subject  of  babies  !  " 
which  observation  the  Young  Aunties  immediately 
proved  by  expressing  their  delight  in  exaggerated 
adjectives ;  while  the  Poor  Relation  told  the  Crippled 
Sister  about  it  with  appreciative  tears  in  her  soft  eyes. 

Then  into  the  gray  old  house  were  brought  little 
friendless  orphans,  and  the  prim  footman  was  kept  dis- 
tractingly  busy  with  the  comings  in  of  cribs  and 
cradles  and  all  the  other  needed  paraphernalia  of 
infancy;  and  in  finding  her  vocation,  Aunt  Hannah 
had  created  a  new  interest  for  other  lives  ;  the  Grand 
mothers  could  scarcely  bear  to  stay  away  from  those 
once  empty  rooms  now  made  full  and  vocal ;  they  felt 
the  value  of  their  advice  and  experience ;  they  trotted 
about,  rosy  and  important,  in  the  service  of  these  Email 
prote  :es  and  more  than  once  bore  in  their  own  arms, 
from  the  haunts  of  poverty  and  the  embrace  of  dead 
mothers,  some  helpless  babe  to  the  saving  refuge  of  this 
ready  home.  The  Young  Mother's  susceptible  heart 


196  AUNT  HANNAH. 

overflowed  with  yearning  towards  the  parentless  nurs- 
lings,  and  her  love  for  her  own  Baby  made  all  these 
sacred  and  beautiful  and  precious  in  her  sight.  The 
Poor  Relation  came  in  among  them  as  one  born  with 
a  gift  to  soothe  their  sufferings  arid  still  their  cries,  and 
the  motherhood  of  her  woman's  soul  developed  when 
she  took  these  children  in  her  arms  and  blessed  them. 
The  Fat  Nurse  found  her  way  there  with  her  mysterious 
basket,  and  was  always  cordially  welcomed,  for  many 
a  useful  hint  was  dropped  from  beneath  the  coal-scuttle 
bonnet,  and  more  than  one  sage  suggestion  emphasized 
with  the  bulgy  umbrella.  But  the  Young  Aunties  were 
quite  absorbed  in  the  new  enterprise  ;  they  constituted 
themselves  amateur  nurses,  and  learned  patience  in  the 
labor ;  they  rocked  cradles  to  the  measure  of  favorite 
operas;  they  picked  out  particular  infants,  and  gos 
siped  about  their  beauties  with  as  much  relish  as  over 
their  beaux  ;  they  discussed  the  latest  arrival  as  eagerly 
as  the  last  fashion  ;  they  knit  up  pounds  upon  pounds 
of  zephyr  into  warm  and  fluffy  infantile  wraps ;  and 
even  the  babies'  eyes  brightened  in  recognition  of  their 
gay  voices  and  sunny  faces  ;  but  through  it  all,  though 
others  might  charm  their  hearts,  their  own  Baby 


AUNT  HANNAH.     .  197 

reigned  supreme  fetish  still,  and  the  one  unrivalled 
standard  of  comparison.  Even  the  Grandfathers 
found  themselves  drawn  into  the  general  attraction, 
and  were  occasionally  captured  and  taken  triumphantly 
through  rows  of  babies  in  that  stirring  gray  house  that 
they  had  so  long  known  in  its  sombre  loneliness,  and 
were  touched  into  sending  wholesale  presents  of  rat 
tles  and  unlimited  supplies  of  arrow-root,  besides  allow 
ing  themselves  amiably  to  be  laid  under  all  sorts 
of  contributions  therefor  by  the  insatiable  Young 
Aunties,  without  the  usual  masculine  protest  at  such 
assailing. 

In  Aunt  Hannah  herself  the  change  wrought  by  her 
work  seemed  little  less  than  miraculous ;  no  one  would 
have  known  her  for  the  reserved,  sorrowful  woman  she 
was  before.  Her  hands  and  time  were  so  full  that  si 
lence  and  solitude  were  no  longer  practicable;  she  had 
so  much  to  do  that  it  gave  her  also  a  great  deal  to  say, 
every  faculty  was  utilized,  every  energy  brought  into 
play,  and  she  blossomed  out  into  a  matronly  sweetness 
and  earnest  motherliness  that  set  its  impress  on  her 
altered  appearance. 

Even  the  prim  footman  manifested  the  most  unex- 


198  AUNT  HANNAH. 

pected  aptitudes  under  the  circumstances;  and  being 
the  only  man  in  the  house  with  so  many  unprotected 
females  and  their  charges,  assumed  a  sort  of  paternal 
responsibility  whose  unction  greatly  tempered  his 
primness,  so  that  he  made  shy  passes  at  the  babies  by 
chucking  them  under  J;heir  chins,  and  was  more  than 
once  observed  to  be  slyly  dandling  a  stray  infant  under 
the  friendly  shade  of  spreading  trees  in  the  garden. 
And  the  fat  coachman  was  busier  than  ever — almost  too 
busy  to  growl,  especially  as  the  Young  Aunties  were 
too  much  taken  up  with  the  babies  that  he  carefully 
drove  out  for  their  airings,  to  torment  him  so  unreason 
ably  about  imaginary  widows. 

So  Aunt  Hannah's  Orphan  Asylum  became  a  rec 
ognized  institution,  not  only,  in  the  immediate  family, 
but  in  the  whole  appreciating  town.  It  met  a  great 
want,  and  before  long  grew  into  proportions  never 
anticipated  at  first.  Little  did  this  gentle  woman,  who 
had  put  her  hand  so  willingly  to  this  work,  ever 
imagine  how  great  the  need  of  it  had  been,  and  how 
many  motherless  waifs  there  were  to  be  rescued 
from  unkindness,  neglect,  and  death.  Soon  the  gray 
old  house  was  too  crowded  and  too  small,  and  it 


AUNT  HANNAH.  199 

wrung  Aunt  Hannah's  heart  to  have  to  turn  away  into 
the  cold  charity  of  the  outside  world  a  single  baby  that 
was  brought  to  her  door ;  so  first  one  wing  was  added, 
and  then  another,  and  more  of  earth's  deserted  little 
ones  were  gathered  into  this  saving  fold.  And  still 
they  came,  more  and  more,  till  in  this  ministry  of  love 
even  Aunt  Hannah's  ample  resources  began  to  be 
strained  and  insufficient  for  further  admittances.  And 
as  she  pondered  over  this  a  little  sadly  one  day,  she 
was  accosted  by  the  prim  footman  in  a  state  of  pertur 
bation  and  embarrassment  quite  unusual  to  that  worthy 
servitor. 

"  If  you  please,  ma'am,"  he  began  somewhat  hesitat 
ingly  and  very  crimson  in  the  face,  "  I'd  like  to  say  a 
few  words.  I've  lived  with  you  pretty  near  all  my  life, 
ma'am,  and  God  and  yourself  willing,  hope  to  die  in 
your  service ;  and  not  having  a  chick  nor  a  child  of  my 
own,  and  never  expecting  to,  I've  saved  up  a  lot  of  my 
wages  with  no  particular  purpose ;  and  as  I'm  as  inter 
ested  in  the  babies  as  anybody,  and  I  know,  ma'am, 
begging  your  pardon,  that  you've  been  a-worrying  be 
cause  there  ain't  room  enough,  why,  I'd  just  like  this 
money  of  mine  to  go  towards  building  a  bit  or  so  more. 


200  A  UNT  HANNAH.  . 

If  you'll  please,  ma'am,  to  take  it,  I'll  think  it  well- 
earned  and  well-spent." 

And  Aunt  Hannah  was  quite  overcome  with  this 
generosity,,  but  reasoned  with  James  about  it,  very  un 
willing  to  take  from  him  his  treasured  savings  ;  but  the 
prim  footman  was  not  to  be  denied,  and  answered 
firmly,  "  If  I  died,  ma'am,  I  should  leave  my  money  to 
this  here  asylum,  and  glad  of  something  to  do  with  it, 
as  I've  got  no  kinfolks,  and  I  might  as  well  see  the 
good  of  it  with  my  living  eyes  !  "  So  Aunt  Hannah 
comprehended  that  he  would  be  greatly  hurt  and  dis 
appointed  if  she  refused  his  assistance ;  and  as  the 
prim  footman  had  had  little  temptations  to  spend,  his 
accumulation  proved  to  be  larger  than  might  have  been 
supposed,  and  afforded  quite  a  respectable  addition, 
which  was  built  out  towards  the  garden,  and  called  in 
his  honor  "  James'  Ward."  And  the  delight  exhibited 
thereat  by  the  prim  footman  was  quite  a  sight  to  see. 
He  watched  every  brick  and  stone  with  affectionate 
interest,  peered  into  the  lime-kiln,  and  hovered  round 
the  hods ;  all  his  leisure  was  devoted  to  superintending 
with  intense  solicitude  the  rearing  of  the  walls  ;  he 
waited  on  the  workmen  with  untiring  zeal,  and  was 


A  UNT  HANNAH.  201 

even  suspected  of  having  occasionally  laid  a  few  lines 
of  mortar  himself ;  he  would  hardly  sleep  in  his  im 
patience  arid  anxiety  to  see  the  roof  actually  on ;  and 
when  at  last  all  was  finished,  and  the  superfluous 
babies  had  overflowed  into  the  new  rooms  from  the 
main  building,  the  prim  footman  adopted  these  as  his 
especial  favorites  and  care,  so  that  at  length,  to  his 
supreme  enjoyment,  they  came  to  be  called  "  James' 
Children  ;  "  and  as  time  went  on,  under  the  combined 
effects  of  busy  days  arid  perpetual  babies,  his  primness 
all  wore  away,  and  he  mellowed  into  a  genial  sort  of 
general  father,  and  quite  forgetting  the  dignified 
limitations  of  a  footman,  was  often  to  be  seen  in  the 
long  walks  of  the  old-fashioned  garden,  patiently  and 
tenderly  carrying  some  ailing  infant  through  the  fresh 
air,  or  sitting  on  his  particular  bench  beneath  the 
laro-est  tree  with  one,  or  even  two  babies  on  his  knees 

O  ' 

playing  with  the  buttons  that  were  worn  above  such  a 
kind  and  faithful  heart. 

Once,  when  the  needs  were  many  and  the  laborers 

still  too  few,  the  Poor  Kelation  was  surprised,  as  she  sat 

by  the  Crippled  Sister,  by  a  visit  from  Aunt  Hannah, 

who  simply  said  to  her :  "  Tear,  I  have  more  than  I  can 

9* 


202  A  TINT  HANNAH. 

do,  and  require  help.  You  must  come  to  me  and  be 
my  right  hand."  But  the  Poor  Relation  only  looked 
over  at  the  white  couch  and  frail  figure,  under  whose 
transparent  fingers  the  white  flowers  were  growing  upon 
a  flowing  robe;  and  Aunt  Hannah  put  her  arms  around 
her  and  said  softly :  "  Not  alone,  dear,  oh,  not  alone ! 
both  must  come,  for  there  is  work  and  welcome  for 
both!" 

And  the  Poor  Relation,  whose  humble  home  had  felt 
very  lonely  since  the  Sunset  of  Life  had  fallen  on  the 
Aged  Father  and  Mother,  turned  to  this  one  of  her  very 
own, who  was  left  to  her,  and  asked  :  "  Sister,  shall  we 
go?"  And  the  Crippled  Sister  dropped  the  snowy 
muslin,  and  put  forth  a  trembling  hand  to  each,  as  she 
answered  with  a  quivering  voice,  "  Inasmuch  as  ye  do 
it  to  the  least  of  these,  my  little  ones,  ye  do  it  unto 
Me !  "  So,  a  little  while  afterwards,  the  Grandfathers 
themselves  came  and  carried  the  Crippled  Sister  down 
to  a  mattress  in  the  roomy  coach,  from  out  of  that  one 
apartment  which  she  had  not  left  for  so  many  years ; 
and  nothing  could  exceed  the  carefulness  with  which 

o 

the  fat  coachman  slowly  drove  over  picked  ways  to  the 
gray  old  house,  where  also  were  conveyed  the  white 


A  UNT  HANNAH.  203 

couch,  the  blithe  bird,  and  all  the  other  familiar  things 
upon  which  her  eyes  had  rested  in  the  olden  home; 
and  in  their  midst  the  Crippled  Sister  still  worked  on, 
only  now  her  skillful  hands  fashioned  only  garments 
for  the  babies ;  and  hither  followed  her,  also,  her  loving 
scholars  to  find  increased  knowledge  in  a  wider  school 
of  humanity  ;  and  all  the  rest  of  her  days  passed  away 
in  such  pleasantness  and  peace  as  her  condition  would 
admit ;  and  not  the  Poor  Relation  only,  but  Aunt  Han 
nah  and  all  the  rest  went  in  to  her  for  that  spiritual 
strength  which  seemed  to  flow  in  upon  her  open  soul 
from  the  very  secret  places  of  the  Most  High. 

Years  went  on  and  on;  Aunt  Hannah's  work  and 
will  never  faltered.  Babies  came  and  came,  and  the 
mother-heart  took  them  all  in — took  them  all  in  and 
cherished  and  reared  them  for  the  life  that  is,  and  the 
life  that  is  to  come.  She  lived  to  be  an  old  woman, 
with  a  soul  full  of  wisdom,  and  her  face  came  to  be  as 
the  face  of  one  who  had  talked  with  God,  with  the  love 
that  was  in  it.  And  the  Young  Mother  would  almost 
have  thought  in  time  that  she  had  put  away  the  grief 
and  memories  of  her  youth  amid  the  beautiful  interests 
of  her  busy  age,  if  she  had  not  known  that  always 


2O1  A  UNT  HANNAH. 

in  that  gray  old  house  there  was  kept  a  single  room 
unused,  in  which  there  was  an  empty  cradle  where  no 
baby  ever  slept;  and  she  wondered,  sometimes,  if, 
among  all  the  active  concerns  of  her  beneficent  life, 
she  had  nourished  still  the  strange  doubt  which  had 
tortured  the  brooding  loneliness  of  that  unmentioned 
past,  for  Aunt  Hannah  never  again  recurred  to  the 
story  of  her  sorrow.  But  at  last,  when  the  time  was 
ripe,  Aunt  Hannah  lay  upon  her  dying  bed,  surrounded 
by  loving  spirits  and  mourned  for  by  hundreds  outside ; 
when  the  Young  Aunties — some  of  them  also  mothers 
then — wept  bitterly  and  would  not  be  comforted ;  when 
only  the  one  Grandfather  and  the  one  Grandmother 
who  were  left,  bent  their  white  heads  before  the 
mystery  they  too  were  soon  to  meet.  When  Baby's 
Nurse  paused  in  her  ineffectual  ministry,  the  Young 
Mother,  who  had  become  a  comely  matron  with  Baby 
a  grown-up  young  lady  at  her  side,  recalled  that  mem 
orable  morning  in  the  long  ago,  when  the  lonely  woman 
had  told 'her  with  hopeless  tears,  of  the  child  who  had 
died  before  it  was  born.  And  lo,  as  she  looked  down 
upon  the  pale  face  resting  on  the  Poor  Relation's 
gentle  bosom,  the  eyes  suddenly  opened  and  looked 


A  UNT  HANNAH.  205 

into  hers;  with  the  failing  strength  the  aged  harM 
caught  her  own  and  drew  her  close,  as  the  last  words, 
which  she  only  completely  understood,  fell  from  the 
lips  already  cold  in  death  :  "  I  have  seen  my  baby ;  its 
face  was  the  face  of  the  living,  and  it  had  its  father's 
eyes !  " 


IX. 


•  BABY  S   NOSE   IS  OUT    OF   JOINT. 

BABY  could  not  understand  it  at  all ;  she  only  com 
prehended  in  her  small  way  that  a  great  change  had 
come  over  everything  in  her  little  world.  The  dear 
Young  Mother  lay  very  pale  and  quiet  on  her  bed, 
and  Baby's  crib  had  been  removed  from  her  side  into 
the  chamber  of  Baby's  Nurse,  all  of  whose  tenderness 
and  patience  could  not  supply  the  loss — when,  restless 
in  the  new  place,  Baby  woke  in  the  night — of  the  low, 
familiar  tones,  and  the  soft  caress  of  the  maternal  hand 
that  always  soothed,  because  Baby  knew  it  so  well,  and 
felt  such  a  sense  of  security  and  peace  under  it. 

The  Fat  Nurse  had  come  in  one  day  in  her  coal 
scuttle  bonnet,  with  her  bulgy  umbrella  and  never-fail 
ing  basket.  But  she  had  come  to  stay,  for  the  basket 
had  been  deposited  in  the  closet,  with  its  faded  green 
ribbon  strings  all  untied ;  the  umbrella  had  been  care- 


£ABY'S  NOSE  IS  OUT  OF  JOINT.  207 

fully  stood  in  a  remote  corner,  and  the  big  bonnet 
replaced  by  a  stiffly-starched  frilled  cap  that  struck 
awe  into  Baby's  heart;  and  as  somehow  Baby  dimly 
connected  the  arrival  of  this  important  personage  with 
the  beginning  of  her  troubles,  she  looked  upon  that 
florid  countenance  with  no  favorable  eye,  especially  as 
the  Fat  Nurse  was  so  absorbed  in  a  white  bundle  on 
her  lap  that  she  took  very  little  notice  of  Baby  Number 
One.  Nor  could  Baby  see  any  reason  why  that  same 
long  white  bundle  should  attract  the  attention  of  every 
one  who  came  in  almost  to  the  exclusion  of  Baby's 
hitherto  most  prominent  self  ;  and  the  ominous  phrase, 
"  Baby's  nose  is  out  of  joint,"  so  often  repeated,  seemed 
to  imply  some  usurpation  of  her  infantile  rights,  and 
such  a  relegation  to  the  background,  that  when  the  Fat 
Nurse  at  last  condescended  to  hold  the  white  bundle 
low  down  for  her  sisterly  inspection,  her  only  impulse 
was  to  double  her  dimpled  fist  and  make  an  effort  to 
punch  the  tiny  bald  head  suddenly  presented  to  her 
bewildered  view. 

First,  when  Baby's  Nurse  had  brought  her  in  fresh 
and  rosy  from  her  bath,  to  receive  the  Young  Mother's 
languid  morning  kiss,  this  new-comer  had  been  held 


208  BABY'S  NOSE  IS   OUT  OF  JOINT. 

up  for  due  observance,  and  Baby's  Nurse  had  clasped 
her  close  to  her  breast,  and  said  "  Baby's  nose  is  out  of 
joint "  with  such  a  sad  inflection  in  her  voice,  that 
Baby  felt  that  some  misfortune  had  befallen  her,  and 
that  this  white  doll  with  the  scarlet  face  was  the  occa 
sion  of  it.  And  the  Fat  Nurse  had  responded,  "  Turn 
about,  fair  play  !  "  in  such  an  unsympathetic  tone,  that 
Baby  hated  her  forthwith. 

Then  the  Young  Father  had  come  in,  and  was  very 
tender  over  his  pale  wife,  and  passing  Baby  by,  had 
gone  across  the  room,  and  leaned  over  the  new  child, 
looking  at  it  silently  for  a  moment,  touching  its  downy 
cheek  gently  with  his  finger,  and  then,  as  Baby  keenly 
felt,  with  his  notice  only  partly  engrossed  by  her,  had 
taken  her  in  his  arms  for  the  usual  greeting  and  toss, 
exclaiming  half  abstractedly  and  half  triumphantly, 
"  Baby's  nose  is  out  of  joint !  "  Baby's  nose  began  to 
have  a  queer  sensation,  and  was  very  nearly  twisted  for 
a  burst  of  crying,  as  the  Fat  Nurse  replied :  "  It's 
natur'  sir!  Babies  comes  and  babies  goes,  and  noses 
ain't  steady  long."  The  Young  Father  laughed  a 
happy  little  laugh,  and  went  off  to  his  office  with  his 
heart  brimming  over  with  joy  at  the  Young  Mother's 


BABY'S  NOSE  IS  OUT  Of  JOINT.  209 

safety,  and  the  addition  of  another  darling  to  his  house 
hold,  and  left  Baby  feeling  more  and  more  that  the 
Fat  Nurse  was  her  mortal  enemy. 

Then  Baby  had  been  banished  from  the  Toung 
Mother's  room,  which  had  been  her  only  nursery,  to 
another  afar  off,  where  she  vented  herself  for  two  or 
three  days  in  all  the  ill-tempers  of  babyhood ;  and 
when  she  was  just  about  to  find  consolation  in  a  bald- 
pated  dolly  that  had  a  towel  pinned  round  it  to  repre 
sent  the  white  bundle  down  stairs,  and  which  she 
could  shake  and  slap  to  her  heart's  content,  she  was 
suddenly  called  for  .to  go  and  see  the  Grandfathers, 
who  had  come  to  welcome  their  last  grandchild  into 
this  mortal  world.  And  lo  !  as  she  entered  at  the  door 
Grandfather  Number  Two  shook  his  gold-headed  cane 
as  if  he  was  threatening  her,  and  called  out  lustily : 
"  Ha  !  ha !  little  one,  your  nose  is  out  of  joint !  "  and 
Grandfather  Number  One  echoed  the  phrase  just 
a  shade  less  forcibly.  And  the  Fat  Nurse  began  to 
trot  down  a  rising  whine  from  the  new-found  voice, 
accompanying  the  motion  with  the  refrain,  "  Qut  of 
joint,  out  of  jointy,  jointy,  jointy,  joint !  "  So  that 
when,  in  a  new  accession  of  wrath,  Baby  declined  to  be 


210  BABY'S  NOSE  IS   OUT  OF  JOINT. 

received  upon  the  Grandpaternal  knees,  the  ancient 
men  chucked  her  under  the  chin,  and  smiling  at  each 
other  as  if  it  was  a  good  joke,  said  merrily  :  "  The  little 
vixen  is  jealous  ! "  and  Baby  experienced  for  the  first 
time  that  Grandfathers  are  a  delusion  and  a  snare. 

The  Grandmothers  rustled  in,  with  their  rosy  faces 
and  shining  black  silks,  and  chirruped  to  the  Young 
Mother,  and  gossiped  over  the  new  baby,  with  just 
a  careless  kiss  to  Baby,  who  began'  to  watch  with  sensi 
tive  spirit  for  tokens  of  inattention  and  displacement, 
till  at  last  one  of  them,  laying  her  hand  upon  the 
golden  curls,  said  conclusively:  ."  Well,  Nurse,  it  is 
a  very  fine  child,  and  this  one's  nose  is  out  of  joint!  " 
And  the  Fat  Nurse,  like  an  everlasting  echo,  had 
responded  :  "  Every  dog  must  have  his  day !  "  And 
Baby  turned  her  large  eyes  reproachfully  upon  the 
frilled  cap,  as  if  wondering  why,  when  her  old  friend 
had  removed  her  big  bonnet,  she  should  thus  take  part 
with  every  one  against  her  former  nursling. 

The  roomy  coach,  driven  by  the  1'at  Coachman, 
brought  Aunt  Hannah  to  the  unusually  quiet  house, 
where  the  missing  of  the  sweet  presence  going  in  and 
out  of  the  rooms  gave  all  but  the  one  an  aspect  of  lone- 


BABY'S  NOSE  IS  OUT  OF  JOINT.  211 

liness  and  emptiness.  She  had  taken  the  new  baby  in 
her  arms,  and  sat  holding  it  awhile  with  her  face  full 
of  blessing  and  love;  Baby  stood  a  little  way  off,  look 
ing  at  her  wistfully,  and  waiting  for  the  inevitable  re 
mark,  and  then,  as  if  magnetized  by  the  yearning  that 
softened  the  brooding  features,  she  slowly  drew  an  ear, 
and  leaned  up  against  her.  Quickly  one  arm  was  disen 
gaged  from  the  white  bundle,  and  went  around  the 
small  figure  not  too  steadfast  yet  upon  its  chubby  feet, 
and  the  thoughtful  eyes  were  turned  upon  the  almost  im 
ploring  little  countenance  lifted  to  her  own,  and  Aunt 
Hannah  saw  there  something  that  no  one  else  had  ob 
served,  for  she  said,  half-questioningly,  "  I  wonder  if 
this  wee  creature  feels  that  her  pretty  nose  is  out  of 
joint  ?  "  to  which  the  Fat  Nurse  heartlessly  replied, 
"  I  reckon  she's  most  too  young  to  feel  much  yet,  and 
anyhow,  she'll  soon  get  used  to  it ! "  Poor  Baby  began 
to  have  a  dim  perception  that  there  was  no  longer  any 
hope  for  her,  and  that  the  repetition  of  this  bitter  phrase 
spread  desolation  over  her  early  days.  The  bright 
Young  Aunties  floated  in,  gay  and  gushing  over  the 
great  event ;  and  they  cooed,  and  gurgled,  and  talked 
baby  talk  over  the  strange  arrival,  and  tenderly  touch- 


212  BABY'S  NOSE  IS  OUT  OF  JOINT. 

ed  its  mites  of  hands,  and  insisted  on  being  shown  its 
tinted  feet  and  tiny  toes,  till  Baby's  heart  swelled  with 
in  her,  for  perhaps  she  remembered,  as  it  was  not  so 
long  ago,  that  they  had  once  gone  on  in  the  same  way 
over  her  now  neglected  self.  It  was  too  much  that  this 
red- faced,  bald-headed  bundle  should  rob  her  of  the 
allegiance  of  these  devoted  adherents ;  too  much  that 
the  flattery  of  their  ringing  voices  should  be  turned 
aside  from  their  hitherto  spoiled  and  reigning  darling; 
that  the  pet  names  should  be  transferred  and  the  faith 
less  admiration  changed  to  a  new  object.  What  to  the 
grown  woman  is  the  misery  of  power  and  love  passing 
away  to  a  rival,  was  Baby's  experience  of  this  fickleness 
of  adulation ;  her  small  brow  puckered,  and  her  rose 
bud  of  a  mouth  began  to  quiver ;  and  as  a  woman  ex 
erts  all  her  arts  to  win  back  acrain  the  waning;  influence, 

O  O  7 

so  the  undeveloped  cunning  of  womanhood  born  in  an 
infant's  breast,  caused  Baby  to  put  forth  all  her  hither 
to  irresistible  wiles  to  attract  the  altered  attention. 
And  the  Young  Aunties  saw  through  the  device  and 
made  themselves  merry  over  -it,  and  petted  her  fondly, 
but  with  a  side  glance  still  at  the  new  baby ;  and  as 
though  conscious  of  a  diminished  interest  in  their  here- 


BABY'S  NOSE  IS   OUT  OF  JOINT.  213 

tofore  idol,  passed  her  from  .one  to  another  with  a  man 
ner  that  was  partly  self-excusing,  as  each  said  to  each, 
"  But  our  Baby's  riose  is  out  of  joint !  " 

The  childish  heart  was  very  full,  but  not  yet  did  the 
cup  overflow,  until  the  Poor  Relation  entered  the  room, 
and  catching  a  glimpse  of  the  young  face  with  the 
shadow  of  a  first  sorrow  on  it,  murmured  as  though  she 
comprehended  the  situation,  "  Ah  !  the  poor  little  nose 
is  out  of  joint."  That  was  the  last  drop !  That  she 
too,  the  best  beloved,  should  echo  this  unceasing  re 
proach,  and  sting  the  suffering  soul  with  these  repeated 
words  of  doom,  even  though  spoken  in  compassion, 
was  more  than  could  be  longer  endured.  Then  Baby 
went  quickly  aside,  and  turning  her  face  from  all  of 
them,  sat  down  in  a  distant  corner  fronting  the  wall, 
and  great  sobs  rose  in  her  throat,  and  the  moans  of  a 
bruised  spirit  sounded  through  the  surprised  silence. 
Consternation  fell  for  a  moment  upon  every  one  pres 
ent  ;  but  the  Fat  Nurse,  so  careless  before,  divined  the 
meaning  of  this  outburst. 

"I  do  believe,"  she  said  remorsefully,  "that  we've 
all  been  blind' as  bats  and  hard  as  rocks,  and  that  that 
Babv  has  been  a-thinkin'  and  a-feelin'  more  than  we 


214:  BABY'S  NOSE  IS   OUT  OF  JOINT. 

had  any  idea  of !  Every  one  of  us  has  been  a-tellin' 
her  that  her  nose  is  out  of  joint,  till  it  has  made  the 
little  creetur'  lonesome.  We  don't  give  these  young 
uns  credit  enough  for  knowinness.  Poor  little  tot !  " 

o 

But  the  Young  Mother  had  risen  up  in  bed,  and 
cried  out :  "  Oh,  give  me  my  Baby  ! — not  that  one — my 
first  Baby !  Don't  you  see  her  heart  is  breaking !  Oh, 
bring  her  to  me  !  " 

And  the  Poor  Relation  lifted  the  little  desolate  form 
in  her  gentle  arms  and  laid  her  on  the  Young  Mother's 
bosom,  where  the  passionately  tender  words  and  the 
soft,  familiar  caress  soon  stilled  the  strangling  sobs  and 
grief -wrung  wail ;  and  sheltered  there  upon  that  faith 
ful  breast,  Baby  gained  her  first  conception  and  reali 
zation  that,  come  weal  or  woe,  though  friends  may  fail 
and  the  world  forget,  or  others  share  the  sacred  love,  to 
the  Mother's  heart  no  Baby's  nose  is  ever  out  of  joint. 


X. 


PASSING  AWAY. 

BABY  was  over  two  years  old,  and  was  no  longer 
Baby ;  another  little  one  had  come  into  her  infantile 
place,  and  in  the  changes  and  chances  of  this  mortal 
life  Baby  had  come  to  be  known  by  her  own  name — the 
beloved  and  blessed  name  of  the  Poor  Relation.  To 
the  gay  and  gushing  young  girls  she  was  no  longer  the 
sole  and  undivided -Pet ;  and  that  One  of  the  Aunties, 
whom  she  had  saved  for  her  husband,  had  now  a  baby 
of  her  own.  Baby's  Nurse  shared  her  care  and  love 
with  another  charge,  and  Baby's  Party  had  become  a 
tale  of  tradition.  The  Crippled  Sister  had  found  the 
sweetness  of  living  in  working  out  her  tender  fancies 
on  the  white  robes  for  Aunt  Hannah's  Orphan  Asylum; 
and  since  the  Sunset  of  Life  had  fallen  on  the  humble 
home  where  the  Aged  Father  and  Mother  had  sat  for 
the  last  time  in  the  vine- wreathed  porch3  the  Poor  Rela- 


216  PASSING  AWAY. 

tion  had  keenly  felt  that  nothing  in  this  world  is 
stationary;  and  that  over  individual  and  family,  as 
well  as  through  the  fortunes  of  the  Great  Many,  irre 
sistible  Time  was  forever  bringing  alteration  and  move 
ment.  But  though  Baby  might  be  compensated  for 
the  loss  of  separate  idolatry  by  the  welcome  compan 
ionship  of  other  babies,  and  though  the  woman's 
sphere  might  be  enlarged  by  more  numerous  duties 
and  wider  interests,  yet  perhaps  in  Baby's  little  heart 
there  might  have  been  an  undefined  sense  of  something 
missing  and  gone,  as  in  the  woman's  soul  there  was  an 
unconquerable  clinging  to  things  of  the  past. 

She  was  thinking  much  in  this  strain  as  she  wended 
her  way  across  the  fields  where  she  had  found  the  five- 
leaved  clover,  to  pay  a  last  visit  to  her  old  home,  which, 
in  the  course  of  events,  was  about  to  pass  out  of  her 
possession ;  and  she  was  going  to  stand  once  more  in 
the  familiar  rooms,  long  sanctified  by  sacrifice  and 
suffering,  to  weep  her  full  heart  out  alone  beneath  the 
roof  that  had  sheltered  her  nearest  and  dearest,  and  to 
bid  a  sad  farewell  to  the  sacred  walls,  the  cherished 
flowers,  the  precious  associations  of  the  abandoned 
abode  of  many  years.  It  might  be  lou  ly  in  the  sight 


PASSING  AWAY.  217 

of  others,  but  no  place  or  palace  on  earth  could  ever 
be  so  sweet  and  beautiful  to  her,  because  of  the  kin 
dred  lives  that  had  been  spent  and  finished  there. 

She  was  thinking  nothing  now  of  five-leaved  clovers 
or  Fairy  Gifts ;  her  innermost  spirit  was  all  stirred 
with  memories,  and  she  was  dwelling  far  more  on 
those  who  had  gone  before  to  the  unknown  bourne, 
than  of  the  new-born  existences  to  which  she  was  her 
self,  in  very  truth,  a  Fairy  Godmother.  Titania  and 
Puck  had  no  place  in  the  mind  that  was  busy  with  the 
angels  in  heaven ;  the  Fairy  Court  could  not  enter  into 
the  musings  on  an  empty  hearth,  and  the  Rose  of  Life 
and  Lily  of  Death  had  become  to  her  only  a  part  of 
a  lovely  dream  in  which  Fancy  had  played  with  the 
secret  things  of  humanity.  Long  and  solemn  was  the 
vigil  she  had  set  for  herself  in  the  silent  house ;  very 
still  and  solitary  would  the  hoars  of  the  night  be  in 
this  dwelling  of  perished  hopes  and  vanished  labors ; 
but  she  knew  that  the  Yoices  of  the  Past  would  speak 
to  her  soul,  and  that  she  would  hold  communion  with 
the  invisible. 

The  outer  door,  through  which  those  she  loved  would 

go  back  and   forth  no   more,   swung   back   slowly   as 
10 


213  PASSING  A  WAT. 

though  loth  to  admit  her  to  the  darkness  and  loneli 
ness;  the  walls  that  would  so  soon  resound  with  the 
tones  of  strangers  gave  back  a  faint  and  mournful 
echo  of  her  lingering  steps;  and  the  very  windows 
seemed  to  lean  over  and  look  down  upon  her  sympa 
thetically,  as  if  she  only  was  their  own.  All!  what 
thoughts,  what  homely  remembrances,  what  irrepress 
ible  yearnings  filled  those  parting  hours,  when  the 
dumb  and  senseless  wood  and  plaster  even  seemed  to 
be  permeated  with  the  personal  influences  that  had 
emanated  in  their  midst,  and  to  give  back  the  concen 
trated  impression  of  vanished  presences.  The  bitter 
ness  of  death  was  in  the  unseen  wringings  of  the 
hands;  the  awful  cry  of  the  human  in  the  moan 
unheard  of  men  ;  and  the  saltness  of  mortal  suffering 
in  the  tears  which  fell  in  the  deserted  dwelling! 
Ghosts  were  there,  but  she  had  no  fear  of  them  ;  the 
dead  arose  from  their  graves  and  came  noiselessly 
about  her,  but  she  shrank  not  from  their  companion 
ship,  for  to  her  beautiful  faith  they  wore  the  wings  of 
God's  Messengers,  and  it  was  not  for  them  the  rain  of 
grief  fell  down,  but  for  her  own  coming  years  upon 
earth  below  without  their  outward  and  visible  inter- 


PASSING  AWAY.  219 

course.  For  though  the  trained  spirit  may  willingly 
murmur  "  Thy  will  Be  Done,"  there  is  no  reconcilia 
tion  in  the  heart,  which  remains  always  natural,  with 
sorrow  and  bereavement. 

She  came  down  at  last  as  the  clock  was  striking  mid 
night,  to  stand  within  the  vine-wreathed  porch,  beneath 
the  starry  sky,  to  look  out  once  more  upon  the  flower- 
decked  lawrn  all  bright  and  silvered  with  the  summer 

x 

moonlight. 

At  the  first  stroke  of  the  church-bell,  to  whose  tolling 
of  the  hours  she  had  so  often  listened  in  the  night- 
watches,  a  rustling  breeze  stirred  all  the  clustering 
leaves ;  at  the  third  stroke  it  suddenly  seemed  to  her 
swimming  eyes  as  if  all  the  flowers  on  the  vines  ex 
panded  at  once  into  full  bloom,  and  turned  upon  their 
steins  towards  the  lawn ;  at  the  fifth  stroke  innumera 
ble  fire-flies  paled  with  their  restless  brilliancy  the  softer 
moonshine  ;  at  the  seventh  the  dewy  grass  and  bushes 
sparkled  as  if  sprinkled  with  diamonds ;  at  the  ninth 
stroke  the  blossoms  distilled  a  flood  of  marvellous  fra 
grance  ;  at  the  eleventh  a  slender  white  circle  appeared 
instantaneously  before  her,  flashing  into  her  mind  the 
remembrance  of  the  five-leaved  clover;  and  at  the 


220  PASSING  AWAY. 

twelfth  stroke,  there  straightway  before  her  was  truly 
all  the  Fairy  Court ! 

The  Poor  Relation  was  greatly  amazed,  for  she  had 
no  charm  now  with  which  to  summon  the  little  people, 
and  had  often  doubted  whether  she  had  once  really  be 
held  and  talked  with  the  tiny  Queen  of  the  Elves.  Only 
when,  day  by  day  she  had  watched  Baby  growing  into 
the  good  gifts  which  she  fancied  were  bestowed  upon 
her  on  a  certain  memorable  night,  did  she  sometimes 
allow  herself  to  dwell  on  the  belief  that  she,  even  she 
had  won  from  the  fays  these  blessings  for  the  general 
darling.  But  the  practical  things  of  every-day  exis 
tence,  crowding  thick  and  fast,  thrust  down  into  the 
secret  place  of  her  heart  the  lingering  childishness 
which  delighted  to  muse  on  poetic  visions  of  storied 
sprites.  And  she  had  told  no  one  that  she  had  held 
converse  with  the  Fairies,  for  she  knew  that  the  incred 
ulity  of  To-day  would  have  impugned  her  sanity,  and 
this  same  skepticism  of  the  outer  life,  which  is  Common 
Sense,  had  so  far  stolen  into  her  Inner  Me,  that  until 
she  beheld  them  all  before  her  again  she  had  come  to 
think  that  her  former  interview  was  an  illusion  of 
rarely  indulged  imagination. 


PASSING  AWAY.  221 

But  there  they  all  unmistakably  were  once  more, 
and  she  knew  that  her  fancy  had  no  part  in  their  ap 
pearance  now,  since  it  was  of  far  other  glorified  beings 
she  had  been  thinking,  than  these  gossamer  and  airy 
creatures.  And  she  could  not  but  notice  that  this  time 
they  wore  no  guise  of  lightness  or  merriment.  Titania, 
seated  on  her  white  rose  throne,  looked  grave  and  sol 
emn,  while  her  silvery  robe  was  mistier  than  before,  and 
the  crown  of  minute  jewels  upon  her  brow  seemed  dim 
and  heavy.  Puck  drooped  dej  ectedly,  and  made  no  sly 
passes  at  the  quiet  pages ;  and  over  all  the  liliputiaii 
assembly  there  reigned  an  aspect  of  depression  and  dis 
tress. 

After  a  moment's  silence  Titania  sadly  spoke  : 

"  Because,  O  gentle  spirit !  that  you  were  the  last  in 
the  land  who  kept  faith  in  us,  we  came  to  you  before — 
we,  who  were  once  summoned  to  the  christening  feasts 
of  all  the  princes  of  the  world  ;  but  since  you  too  have 
let  belief  grow  cold,  and  have  permitted  yourself  to 
think  of  us  as  creatures  of  fiction,  w,e  must  bid  you 
farewell  forever !  " 

"  Ah,  no ! "  cried  the  Poor  Eelation,  "  for  now  that  I 
see  you  again  my  faith  comes  back,  and  I  know  you  all 


222  PASSING  AWAT. 

for  the  veritable  fairies  that  my  childhood  longed  to 
see  ! " 

"Yes,"  said  Titania  a  little  scornfully,  "just  now  it 
is  night,  and  you  are  alone,  and  we  are  here ;  but  to 
morrow,  in  the  broad  day,  will  you  dare  to  proclaim 
aloud  in  the  market-place  that  we  really  do  exist,  and 
that  you  have  seen  us  with  your  natural  eyes,  and  heard 
us  with  your  conscious  ears  ? " 

And  the  Common  Sense,  which  is  so  cruel  a  foe  to 
Genius,  'and  so  staunch  an  ally  to  Truth,  caused  the 
Poor  Relation  to  keep  silent  and  slightly  hang  her  head 
in  shame,  and  the  bright  ring  of  fairies  all  sighed  so 
piteously  that  she  felt  very  culpable  indeed. 

"  Ah  well !  "  continued  Titania,  "  we  can  pardon  you, 
for  the  Spirit  of  the  Age  has  inherited  our  lost  power, 
and  its  impressions  are  stronger  than  we,  since  they  only 
can  endure  the  glare  of  the  sunshine,  while  we  are  the 
children  of  the  shadows  and  the  Past.  There  is  no 
place  for  us  any  longer  in  this  country  of  steam  and 
schools ;  but  as  long  as  one  heart  remained  that  cher 
ished  us  we  lingered  in  our  olden  haunts.  But  we  have 
bidden  them  all  adieu — even  as  you  have  bidden  adieu 
to  your  former  home — with  all  the  grief  that  fairies  ever 


PASSING  A  WAT.  223 

can  feel,  and  now  we  have  come  to  add  one  more 
farewell  to-  night  to  those  you  and  we  have  already ' 
taken." 

"  But,  O  Queen  !  "  exclaimed  the  Poor  Relation, 
"  why  must  you  go  ?  why  must  the  places  which  have 
known  you  so  long  know  you  now  no  more  ?  " 

(i  Can  you  not  understand,"  replied  Titania  almost 
sharply,  "  that  when  knowledge  comes,  the  fairies 
must  go?  In  this  very  house,  have  there  not  heen 
gathered  in  the  ignorant  children,  whose  parents 
brought  with  them  from  a  far  country  all  the  traditions 
of  our  rule,  to  be  shown  the  light  of  science  and  taught 
the  power  of  fact?  When  a  child  has  pnlled  a  flower 
to  pieces  in  order  to  count  the  pistils  and  stamens,  do 
you  think  she  will  ever  again  see  a  fairy  peeping  from 
its  leaves  ?  Your  locomotives  have  cut  through  our 
meadow  circles  where  we  danced  so  merrily  of  yore ; 
your  railroads  have  tunnelled  the  hills  whose  recesses 
were  all  Fairy  Land,  invisible  to  the  spade  and  measur 
ing-line  ;  and  the  very  woods  beneath  whose  shady 
ferns  we  slept  so  securely  in  the  day-time,  have  been 
cut  down  for  Telegraph  poles,  and  there  is  no  longer 
any  suitable  spot  in  this  wretched  land  of  bare.actuality, 


224  PASSING  AWAY. 

work,  and  progress,  for  beings  so  delicate  and  ethereal 
as  we !  " 

And  a  low  wail,  like  the  dying  fall  of  the  wind  at 
night,  went  up  from  the  saddened  Fairy  Court. 

"  But  where  will  you  go,  oh,  where  will  you  go  ? " 
asked  the  Poor  Relation ;  "  for  though  you  should 
again  fade  away  from  me  as  realities,  your  memories 
will  not  pass  from  my  heart,  and  I  would  fain  picture 
you  in  whatsoever  region  you  may  be !  " 

"  We  will  go,"  answered  Titania  slowly,  "  to  some 
barbaric  land  whose  people  are  still  children;  where 
the  eyes  have  not  been  dulled  by  education,  nor  where 
ears  have  grown  deaf  to  the  voices  of  nature.  For 
them  we  will  dance  again  in  the  moonlight,  and  people 
their  glens  and  glades  ;  they  will  see  us  amid  the  ferns, 
and  find  our  circles  in  the  fields ;  and  we  will  be  hap 
pier  with  them  than  we  have  been  for  a  long  time 
here,  for  with  much  knowledge  cometh  much  sorrow 
to  man  as  well  as  to  fairies !  " 

Then  the  Poor  Relation  stretched  her  arms  to  the 
little  people.  "  I  know,"  she  said,  "  O  beautiful 
Queen !  that  you  and  yours  will  never  quite  go  out  of 
my  life.  I  may  never  again  see  you  with  the  eyes  of 


PASSING  AWAf.  225 

my  sense,  but  wherever  you  may  go  my  soul  will  sum 
mon  you  again  and  again,  and  you  will  come  from  the 
far  away,  and  whisper  to  me  of  the  new  worlds  you 
have  found,  pour  sweet  fancies  into  my  innermost 
longings,  and  gather  around  me  in  the  silence  of  sleep 
and  night ! " 

"  Ah  ha  !  "  cried  Puck,  "  she  believes  in  us  yet ! 
There  is  enough  of  the  child  left  in  the  woman  to  hold 
us  dear  still !  Must  we  go  while  one  heart  so  clings  to 
us  ? " 

And  all  the  small  elves  echoed  anxiously,  "  Must  we 
go  ?  must  we  go  \ " 

But  Titania  answered  mournfully,  "  It  is  true  that 
we  can  never  quite  forsake  those  who  love  us ;  but  we 
must  go,  alas!  we  must  go  from  this  civilization  to 
which  she  belongs,  if  we  are  to  live  at  all,  for  the 
March  of  Improvement  treads  down  such  as  we,  and 
advancing  Reason  accounts  it  good  to  look  upon  us 
slain !  And  even  she  will  consider  that  Use  is  better 
than  Beauty,  and  help  to  train  up  that  Baby  which  we 
gifted  in  the  New  Order  of  Things  that  will  know  us 
no  more!  But  because  she  only,  for  so  long  in  tlm 

midst  of  All  This,  has  cherished  us  and  summoned  us, 
10* 


226  PASSING  AWAY. 

and  will  regret  us,  we  will  leave  her  a  gift  which  shall 
remain  forever  fresh  in  her  heart,  to  which  we  will 
sometimes  secretly  return." 

And  then  it  seemed  to  the  Poor  Relation  that  all  the 
Fairy  Court  ringed  her  round,  floating  in  the  mid-air ; 
that  they  touched  her  with  their  tiny  hands,  and  kissed 
her  with  their  little,  little  mouths ;  and  that  Titania, 
pausing  a  moment  in  front  of  her,  left  an  offering  lying 
on  her  breast.  Then  a  cloud  swept  over  the  face  of 
the  moon,  and  when  it  had  passed  away  the  little 
people  had  all.  gone  out  of  sight  forever;  but  still  upon 
the  scented  breeze  there  swelled  the  melancholy 
cadence  of  their  last  "Farewell! "  And  as  she  glanced 
downward  she  saw  through  her  involuntary  tears  a 
single  familiar  flower  lying  on  her  bosom  within  the 
folds  of  her  dress ;  and  all  her  life  long  the  Poor  Re 
lation  always  knew  that  any  one  to  whom,  in  the  night 
of  sorrow  or  amid  the  hours  of  care,  the  fairies  could 
come  unbidden,  or  who  could  behold  a  vision  of  Ti 
tania,  would  never  be  entirely  left  alone  in  the  dark 
ness  without  this  token  of  Heart's-ease. 

THE    END. 


AND    NEW   EDITIONS, 


G,  W,  CARLETON  &  Co.,  Publishers, 

Madison  Square,  New  York. 


.     fhe  Publishers,  upon  receipt  of  the  price  in  advance,  will  send  any  book  on  this  Catalogue 
by  mail,  fostage  free,  to  any  part  of  the  United  States. 

q 

All  books  in  this  list  [unless  otherwise  specified]  are  handsomely  bound  in  cloth  board 
binding,  with  gilt  backs,  suitable  for  libraries. 


Tempest  and  Sunshine 

English  Orphans 

Homestead  on  the  Hillside 

'Lena  Rivers 

Meadow  Brook 

Dora  Deane 

Cousin  Maude 

Marian  Grey 

Edith  Lyle (New) 


Mrs.   Mary  J.   Holmes'   Works.. 


Alone 

Hidden  Path. 
Moss  Side..., 
Nemesis 


Marion    Harland's    "Works. 


Miriam 

At  Last 

Helen  Gardner 

True  as   Steel (New)  

Charles   Dickens— 15 

Pickwick,  and  Catalogue $ 

Doinbey  and  Son 

Bleak  House 

Martin  Chuzzlewit 

Barnaby  Ruige — Edwin  Drood.. 
Child's  England — Miscellaneous. 
Oliver  Twist — and — The  Uncomm 
Great  Expectations — and — Picture 
Christmas  Books — and — A  Tale  ol 
Sets  of  Dickens'  Complete  Works 

Augusta  3 

Beulah..   ,— 

Macaria  

Inez. 


Darkness  and  Daylight 

Hugh  Worthington 

Cameron  Pride 

Rose  Mather 

Ethelyn's   Mistake 

Millbank 

Edna  Browning 

West   Lawn (New) 


Sunnybank 
Husbands  and  Homes 
Ruby's  Husband 
Phemie's   Temptation 


The  Empty  Heart 

Jessamine. 


50    From   My  Youth  Up 

My  Little  Love (New) 

Vols.—"  Carleton's   Edition." 

50    David  Copperfield 

50    Nicholas   Nickleby 

50    Little   Dorrit 

50     Our  Mutual    Friend... 

50    Curiosity  Shop — Miscellaneous.. 
50    Sketches  by  Boz— Hard  Times.. . . 

rcial  Traveler  

of  Italy  and  America 

Two  Cities. 


in  15  vols. — [elegant  half  calf  bindings].  60  oo 

Evans'   Novels. 

St.  Elmo 

Vashti. 


Infelice (New) *  oo 


i  G,   W.  CASLETON  6-  GO'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

Miriam    Coles    Harris. 

Rutl^d^e $i  50    The   Sutherlands |i  50 

Frank   Warrington i  50  \  St.    Philip's i  50 

Louie's  Last  Term,  etc i  50  I  Round  Hearts,  for  Children i  50 

VUchard  Vandermarck i  50  |  A  Perfect  Adonis.     (New) i   so 

May   Agnes    Fleming's    Novels. 

Guy   Ear'scourt's  Wife $i  75  I  A  Wonderful   Woman fci  ?« 

A  Terrible  Secret i  75  |  A  Mad  Marriage i   •; 

Norine's  Revenge i  75    One   Night's  Mystery j  -s 


Kate  Danton.    (New) 


A  New  Book 

Grace   Mortimer. 

The  Two  Barbaras.— A  novel.   ...$i  50  |  Bosom  Foes.    (In  press)        $i  50 

Julio    P.    Smith's    Novels. 

Widow  Goldsmith's  Daughter.. $i  75 

Chris  and  Otho i  75 

Ten  Old  Maids "i  75 


The  Widower 

The  Married   Belle i  75 

Courting  and  Farming )  75 


His  Young  Wife.     (New) i  75 

Captain    Mayne    Reid— Illustrated. 

The  Scalp  Hunters $i  50  I  The  White  Chief $1  50 

The  Rifle   Rangers i  50  |  The  Tiger  Hunter i  50 


The  'War  Trail i  50 

The  Wood  Rangers i  50 

The  Wild  Huntress i  50 


The  Hunter's  Feast i  50 

Wild  Life j  50 

Osceola,  the  Seminole ,    i  50 


True  to  the  Last $i  50 

The  Star  and  the  Cloud i  io 

How  Could  He  Help  ItJ? i  50 


A.   S.  Roe's   Select    Stories. 


A  Long  Look  Ahead $i  50 

I've  Been  Thinking >  50 

To  Love  and  to  be  Loved i  50 


Charles    Dickens. 

Child's  History  of  England.—  Carleton'a  New  "School Edition,"   Illustrated., $i  25 

Hand-Books   of   Society. 

Habits  of  Good  Society. — The  nice  points  of  taste  and  good  manners..  $•   50 

Art  of  Conversation. — For  those  who  wish  to  be  agreeable  talkers  or  listeners. . . .    i  50 

Arts  of  Writing,  Reading,  and  Speaking. — For  self-improvement i   50 

New  Diamond  Edition. — Small  size,  elegantly  bound,  3  volumes  in  a  box 3  DO 

Mrs.  Hill's  Cook  Book. 

Mrs.  A.  P.  Hill's  New  Cookery  Book,  and  family  domestic  receipts $a  oo 

Famous   Books— "  Car leton's  Edition." 

Robinson  Crusoe. — New  ismo  edition,  with  illustrations  by  ERNEST  GRISET....$I  ;;o 
Swiss  Family  Robinson. — New  i2mp  edition,  with  illustrations  by  MARCKL....    i  50 

The  Arabian  Nights. — New  izmo  edition,  with  illustrations  by  DEMORAINK i  50 

Don  Quixote. — New  lamo  edition,  with  illustrations  by  GUSTAVE  DORI i  50 

Victor    Hngo. 

Les  Miserables. — An  English  translation  from  the  original  French.    Octavo $2  50 

Les  Miserables. — In  the  Spanish  Language.    Two  v.-lumes,  cloth  bound 500 

Popular   Italian    Novels. 

Doctor  Antonio. — A  IOTS  st-jry  of  Italy.     By  Ruffini  ?i  75 

Beatrice  Cenci. — By  Guerrazzi.    With  a  steel  engraving  from  Guido's  Picture....    i  75 

M.  Michelet's    Remarka/hle   Works. 

Love  (L'amour). — English  translation  irom  the  original  French ..$i  50 

Woman  (La  Femme). — Do Do Do i  50 

Joaqnin    Miller. 

The  One  Fair  Woman. — A  new  novel,  the  scene  laid  chiefly  in  Italy.., fa  oo 

Joseph   Rodman  Drake. 

The  Culprit  Fay. — The  well-known  fairy  poem,  with  100  illustrations ?a  oo 

Artemus   "Ward's   Comic    Works. 

A  Hew  Stereotype  Edition. — Embracing  the  <vhcle  of  his  writings,  with  a  Bio 
graphy  of  the  author,  and  profusely  illustrated  by  various  artists  $»  <w 


G.  W.  CARLETON  &  CO:S  PUBLICATIONS. 


Josh   Billings. 

A  New  Stereotype   Edition  of  the  complete  writings  of  Josh  Billings.    Foiv 

vols  in  one,  with  Biography,  steel  portrait,  and  100  comic  illustrations.. ......  $a  oo 

Bessie    Turner. 

A  Woman  in  the  Case. — A  new  novel,  with  photographic  portrait  of  Author...  fi  sc 

"Win.  P.  Talboys. 
West  India  Pickles. — Journal  of  a  Winter  Yacht  Cruise,  with  illustration*  ....  fi  50 

Dr.  A.   K.   Gardner. 

Out   Children. — A  Hand-book  for 'th<*Instruction  of  Parents  and  Guardians $3  oo 

C.  H.  Webb   (John  Paul). 

Parodies  and  Poems $i  50)  My  Vacation. — Sea  and  Shore. ...  $i  50 

Livingston    Hopkins. 
Comic  Centennial  History  of  the  United  States. — Profusely  illustrated fi  50 

Allan  Pinkerton. 

Th«  Model  Town,  etc £i  50  |  A  New  Book.    (In  press) $i  50 

Mrs.  M.   V.   Victor. 

Passing  the  Portal.— A  new  story. $i  50  |  A  New  Book.    (In  press) fi  50 

Ernest    Kenan's   French  Works. 

The  Life  of  Jesus $i  75    The  Life  of  St.  Paul ...|i  75 

Lives  of  the  Apostles i  75    The  Bible  in  India.— By  Jacolhot..a  oo 

Geo.   W.   Carleton. 

Our  Artist  in  Cuba.— Pictures $i  50  I  Our  Artist  in  Africa.    (In  press).. $i  30 

Our  Artist  in  Peru.        Do i  50  |  Our  Artist  in  Mexico.       Do.       ..150 

Verdant    Green, 

A  racy  English  college  story — with  numerous  original  comic  illustrations Si  3° 

Algernon  Charles    Swinburne. 
Laus  Veneris,  and  Other  Poems. — An  elegant  new  edition,  on  tinted  paper.  ,.$i  50 

French  Love-Songs. — Selected  from  the  best  French  authors i  5° 

Robert  Dale  Owen. 

The  Debatable  Land  Between  this  World  and  the  Next ?a  oa 

Threading  My  Way.— Twenty-five  years  of  Autobiography i  5° 

The   Game  of  Whist. 

Pole  on  Whist. — The  late  English  standard  work.     New  enlarged  edition. . .  . .  $i  oo 
Mother   Goose   Set  to   Music. 

Mother  Goose  Melodies. — With  music  for  singing,  and  many  illustrations $i  5° 

M.   M.  Pomeroy  ("Brick,") 


Sense — (a  serious  book). 
Gold-Dust        Do. 
Our  Saturday  Nights. 


Stolen  Waters — (inverse) 

Broken  Dreams      Do 


Celia  E.   Gardner's   Novels. 


Nonsense — (a  comic  book) $i  5° 

Brick-Dust          Do  *  5° 

Home  Harmonies.    (In  press)....   i  jo 


Tested (in  prose).$i  75 

Rich  Medway's  Two  Loves.  Do.,  i  75 


A  New  Novel.    (In  press) 

Mrs.  N.  S.  Emerson. 
Betsey  and  I  are  Out-  Poems.. .$x  50  I  Little  Folks'  Letters.-Prote.....«i 

Louisa  M.   Alcott. 
Morning  Glotl'es— A  beautiful  child's  book,  by  the  author  of «'  Little  Women.".. .  f  i  9» 

Geo.   A.   Crofntt. 
Trans-Cont  nental  Tourist  from  New  York  to  San  Fr«ncl«co.-Illu»tr«ted..ti  »» 


4  G.  W.  CARLETON  &  CO:S  PUBLICATIONS. 

Miscellaneous   'Works. 

Johnny  Ludlow. — A  collection  of  entertaining  English  stories 

Glimpses  of  the  Supernatural. — Facts,  Records,  and  Traditions ... 

Fanny  Fern  Memorials. — With  a  Biography  by  James  P*rton 

How  to  Make  Money;  and  How  to  Keep  It. — By  Thomas  A.  Davies 

Tales  From  the  Operas. — A  collection  of  Stories  based  upon  the  opera  plots.... 
New  Nonsense  Rhymes. — By  W.  H.  Beckett,  with  illustrations  by  C.  G.  Bush.. 

•Wood's  Guide  to  the  City  of  New  York.— Beautifully  illustrated 

The  Art  of  Amusing. — A  book  of  home  amusements,  with  illustrations 

A  Book  About  Lawyers. — A  curious aud  interesting  volume.    By  Jeaffreson.... 

A  Book  About  Doctors.  Do.  •        Do.  Do 

The  Birth  and  Triumph  of  Love.— Full  of  exquisite  tinted  illustrations. 

Progressive  Petticoats. — A  satirical  tale  by  Robert  B.  Roosevelt 

Ecce  Femina  ;  or,  the  Woman  Zoe. — Cuyler  Pine,  author  "Mary  Brandegee." 

Souvenirs  of  Travel. — By  Madame  Octavia  Walton  Le  Vert  

Woman,  Love  and  Marriage. — A  spicy  little  work  by  Fred  Saunders 

Shiftless  Folks. — A  brilliant  new  novel  by  Fannie  Smith 

A  Woman  in  Armor. — A  powerful  new  novel  by  Mary  Hartwell 

The  Fall  of  Man. — A  Darwinian  satire.    Author  of  "  New  Gospel  of  Peace.". . . . 

The  Chronicles  of  Gotham. — A  modern  satire.    Do.  Do.  

The  Story  of  a  Summer. — Journal  Leaves  by  Cecelia  Cleveland 

Phemie  Frost's  Experiences. — By  Mrs  Ann  S.  Stephens 

Bill  Arp's  Peace  Papers.— Full  of  comic  illustrations ... 

A  Book  of  Epitaphs. — Amusing,  quaint,  and  curious (New) 

Ballad  of  Lord  Bateman. — With  illustrations  by  Cruikshank,  (paper) 

The  Yachtman's  Primer. — For  amateur  sailors.     T.  R.  Warren,  (paper) 

Rural  Architecture.— By  M.  Field.     With  plans  and  illustrations 

What  I  Know  of  Farming. — By  Horace  Greeley.- 

Transformation   Scenes  in   the   United    States. — By  Hiram  Fuller 

Marguerite's  Journal. — Story  for  girls.     Introduction  by  author  "  Rutledge." . . . 
Kingsbury  Sketches, — Pine  Grove  doings,  by  John  H.  Kingsbury.    Illustrated.. 

Miscellaneous   Novels. 


Led  Astray,— By  Octave  Feuillet..$i  75 

She  Loved  Him  Madly. — Borys..  x  75 

Through  Thick  and  Thin. — Mery.  i  75 

So  Fair  Yet  False.— Chavette i  75 

A  Fatal  Passion. — Bomard i  75 

Manfred. — F.  D.  Guerazzi i  75 

Seen  and  Unseen i  50 

Purple  and  Fine  Linen. — Fawcett. .  i  75 

Asses'  Ears Do.  175 

A  Charming  Widow. — Macquoid.  i  75 

True  to  Him  Ever.— By  F.  W.  R..  i  50 

The  Forgiving  Kiss. — ByM.  Loth,  i  75 

Loyal  Unto  Death i  75 

Kenneth,  My  King.— S.  A.  Brock.,  i  75 

Heart  Hungry  .-M.  J.Westmoreland  i  75 

Clifford  Troupe.             Do.  i  75 

Silcott    Mill.— Mrs.  Deslonde 175 

Ebon  and  Gold. — C.  L.  Mcllvain..  i  50 

Robert  Greathouse.—J.  F.  Swift..  200 

Charette i  50 


Saint  Leger.— Richard  B.  Kimball.j 

Was  He  Successful? Do. 

Undercurrents  of  Wall  St.     Do. 
Romance  of  Student  Life. ...Do. 

Life  in  San  Domingo Do. 

Henry  Powers,  Banker  Do. 

To-Day Do. 

Bessie  Wilmerton. — Westcott 

Cachet. — Mrs.  M.  J.  R.  Hamilton... 
Romance  of  Railroad.— Smith..... 

Fairfax* — John  Esten  Cooke 

Hilt  to  Hilt.  Do 

Out  of  the  Foam.     Do 

Hammer  and  Rapier.Do 

Warwick.— By  M.  T.  Walworiu... 
Lulu.  Do.  .... 

Hotspur.  Do. 

Stormcliff.  Do. 

Delaplaine.  Do.  . ... 

Beverly,  Do. 


2  DO 
a  oe 
i  50 
I  50 
I  oo 
i  oo 
I  50 
a  oo 
zoo 
i  oo 
I  50 
i  50 
a  oo 
i  50 
I  75 
150 
50 
»S 

i  50 

175 

i  50 

i  50 

25 

50 

a  oo 
i  50 
i  50 
i  50 
i  50 


i  75 
i  75 
i  75 
i  75 
i  50 
i  75 
i  75 

4  75 

*  75 
i  5° 
i  5° 
i  5° 
I  5° 
i  50 
i  71 
i  75 
i  75 
l  75 
i  75 
i  75 


Miscellaneous   "Works. 


Bel  dazzle's  Bachelor  Studies....  $i  oo 

Little  Wanderers. — Illustrated i  50 

Genesis  Disclosed. — T.  A.  Davies..  i  50 

Commodore   Rollingpin's  Log...  i  50 

Brazen  Gates. — A  juvenile i  50 

Antidote  to  Gates  Ajar as 

The  Snoblace  Ball 35 


Northern  Ballads. — Anderson....  }i  oo 
O.  C.  Kerr  Papers.  -4  vols.  in  i. ...  a  oo 

Victor  Hugo. — His  life a  oo 

Beauty  is  Power i  50 

Sandwiches. — Artemus  Ward ,       as 

Widow  Spriggins. — Widow  Bedott.   175 
Squibob  Papers.— John  Phoenix. ...   150 


CHARLES  DICKENS'  WORKS. 


A  Netv  Edition. 

A  mom*  the  many  editions  of  the  works  of  this  greatest  >f 
fcnglish  Novelists,  there  has  not  been  until  now  one  that  entirely 
satisfies  the  public  demand. — Without  exception,  they  each  have 
some  strong  distinctive  objection, — either  the  form  and  dimensions 
of  the  volume*  are  unhandy — or,  the  type  is  small  and  indistinct — 
or,  the  illustrations  are  unsatisfactory — or,  the  binding  is  poor — or, 
the  price  <s  too  high. 

An  entirely  new  edition  is  now,  however,  published  by  G.  W. 
Carleton  &  Co.  of  New  York,  which,  it  is  believed,  will,  in  every 
respect,  completely  satisfy  the  popular  demand. — It  is  known  as 

"Carleton's  NCAV  Illustrated  Edition." 

COMPLETE  IN  15  VOLUMES. 

The  size  and  form  is  most  convenient  for  holding,—  the  type  is 
entirely  new,  and  of  a  cleat  and  open  character  that  has  received  the 
approval  of  the  reading  community  in  other  popular  works. 

The  illustrations  are  by  the  original  artists  chosen  ly  Charles 
Dickens  himself — and  the  paper,  printing,  and  binding  are  of  an 
attractive  and  substantial  character. 

This  beautiful  new  edition  is  complete  in  15  volumes — at  the 
extremely  reasonable  price  of  $1.50  per  volume,  as  follows : — 

I. — PICKWICK   PAPERS   AND   CATALOGUE. 

2. — OLIVER  TWIST. — UNCOMMERCIAL  TRAVELLER. 

3. DAVID    COPPERFIELD. 

4. — GREAT  EXPECTATIONS.— ITALY  AND  AMERICA. 

5. — DOMBEY   AND   SON. 

6. — BARNABY  RUDGE  ANT)   EDWIN  DROOD. 

7. — NICHOLAS   NICKLEBY. 

8. — CURIOSITY  SHOP  AND  MISCELLANEOUS. 

9. — BLEAK   HOUSE.  • 

IO. — LITTLE   DORRIT. 
1 1 .  — MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 
12. — OUR   MUTUAL   FRIEND. 
13. — CHRISTMAS   BOOKS. — TALE  OF  TWO    CITIES. 

4. — SKETCHES   BY  vQl  AND  HAKD  TIMES. 

15. — CHILD'S  ENGLAND  AND  MISCELLANEOUS. 

The  first  volume —Pickwick  Papers— contains  an  alphabeticsJ 
catalogue  of  all  of  Charles  Dickens'  writings,  with  their  p.xatious 
in  the  volumes. 

This  edition  is  sold  by  Booksellers,  everywhere— and  single  sped- 
men  copies  will  be  forwarded  by  mail,  postage  free,  on  receipt  of 

price,  §1.50,  by       G  ^  CARLETON  &  CO.,  Publishers, 

Madison  Square,  New  York. 


MARY  J.  HOLMES'  WORKS. 


I  -TEMPEST  AND  SUNSHINE.    «f  8 

«- -ENGLISH  ORPHANS. 

j. -HOMESTEAD  ON  HILLSIDE. 

«.—  'LENA  RIVERS. 

*— MEADOW  BROOK. 

5.—  DORA  DEANE. 

7.— COUSIN  MAUDE. 

6.— WEST  LAWN. 


ii,- 
i.i.- 
IV- 

14.- 
V*s- 

17. 


-MARIAN  GRAY. 
-DARKNESS  AND  DAYLIGUi 
-HUGH   WORTHINGTON. 
-CAMERON  PRIDE. 
-ROSE   MATHER. 
-ETHELVN'S   MISTAKE. 
-MILLBANK. 
-EDNA    BROWNING. 
-EDITH  LYLE. 


OPINIONS   OF   THE    PRESS. 

"Mr».  Holmes'  stories  are  universally  read.  Her  admirers  are  numberless. 
She  is  m  many  respects  without  a  rival  in  the  world  of  fiction.  Her  characters 
are  always  life-like,  and  she  makes  them  talk  and  act  like  human  beings,  subject 
to  the  same  emotions,  swayed  by  the  same  passions,  and  actuated  by  the  same 
monves  whu.li  are  common  among  men  and  women  of  every  day  existence.  Mrs. 
Holmes  is  very  happy  in  portraying  domestic  life.  Old  and  young  peruse  her 
stories  with  great  delight,  for  she  writes  in  a  style  thdt  all  can  comprehend."  — 
/Ww  York  Weekly. 

"Mrs.  Holmes'  stcriei  are  all  of  a  domestic  character,  and  their  interest, 
therctore,  is  not  so  intense  as  if  they  were  more  highly  seasoned  with  sensational 
ism,  but  it  is  r  fa  healthy  and  abiding  character.  Almost  any  new  book  which  her 
publisher  might  choose  to  announce  from  her  pen  would  get  an  immediate  and 
general  reading.  The  interest  in  her  tales  begins  at  once,  and  is  maintained  to 
the  close.  Her  sentiments  are  so  sound,  her  sympathies  so  warm  and  ready, 
an-1  her  knowledge  of  manners,  character,  and  the  varied  incidents  of  ordinary 
Uis  is  so  thorough,  that  she  *vould  find  it  difficult  to  write  any  other  than  an 
excellent  Ulc  if  she  were  to  try  it" — Button  Banner. 

"Mrs.  Holmes  it  very  amusing;  has  a  quick  and  true  sense  ot  humor,  n 
sympathetic  tone,  a  perception  of  character,  and  a  familial,  attractive  «tyl». 
pleasantly  adapted  to  the  comprehension  and  the  taste  of  that  large  clat»  of 
An:rican  readers  for  whom  fashionable  novels  and  ideal  faniasirj  have  t; 
^iarm." — Henry  7*.  Tvckertnan. 


837"  Th*    volumes  aie  all   handsomely   printed   and   bound   La   tkitb. -•<•.  u 
»*rjrwhere,  ind  sent  by  mail,  postage  frtt,  on  receipt  of  price  [$1.50  each]*  by 

Q.  W    CARLETON  4  CO.,   Publisher^ 

Madison  Square,  New  Yetk. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  LOS  ANGELES 

THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


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baby. 


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